Session 27: The Real Folk Blues Part 3
by Tom Kingsly
Summary: Faye and Jet struggle to cope in the aftermath of RFB II. When they visit the Red Dragon building, a linear sequence of events take them on a crash course through the solar system. Next Episode: The Real Folk Blues Part 3. Criticism and reviews welcome.
1. Avant Title

**Avant Title**

**Then...****Red Dragon Syndicate building.**

"Julia is dead,"

Spike Spiegel's words echoed with cobra like venom around the silent hall.

The katana hilt of his mortal enemy felt cold in Spike's hand. But then, everything about Vicious felt cold, dead. Like Spike, everywhere vicious went, death would inevitably follow. That was why only one of them would survive this duel. This time there was no Gren or Lin to get between them. It was just the two of them, locked in the duel that fate had planned long ago. There was no church window to fall out of and no Faye Valentine to rescue.

_You never told me anything about yourself so don't start now_. The last words of Faye rung out in his mind, why was he thinking of that? The only thing that mattered now was vicious' death.

Spike tightened his grip around the sword, wanting to break it like a twig, instead he could only say, "Lets finish this," the words sounded stupid, like something Jet might say when he tried to sound like a tough guy. What was that story Jet had told him? Something about climbing a mountain and futility and someone freezing to death.

"As you wish," Vicious spoke this time, his voice cold and dark like it came from the end of a long stone passageway.

He wondered, for a moment, as his eyes locked with Vicious, waiting for the tell-tale sign of movement. What were his options here. Vicious had Spikes Jericho pistol clamped beneath his boot but the shining silver blade was quick. Killing vicious with his own sword would be a sweet victory. What would Jet do--honour, maybe. What would Faye do--shoot them before they shoot you.

A Jericho nine four one pistol was suddenly hurtling in his direction. Vicious granite cut face behind it with eyes secretly expecting Spike to return his sword. He did. The katana whipped toward Vicious as Spike instinctively went for the gun.

An arc of silver, glinting in the half-light. A manmade thunder clap and the fiery tongue of an angered god.

Spike Spiegel felt the warmth. Felt it in his gut, neither pleasant nor painful. The feeling of his own life, seeping out and adding to the bloodstains on his scruffy suit and trench coat. He smirked, seeing the look of pain shatter Vicious normally emotionless façade. His eyes twitching and pulled back with mouth, slightly drawn, teeth gritted. He suddenly appeared darker than usual, like he was falling into a pit with no hope of climbing back up.

Vicious plummeted forward, his black trench coat fluttering behind him. His face smashed to the carpet at the same time as his katana sword clattered at his side. A cloud of blood was the only thing to cushion his fall.

Spike stood up straight, looking out toward the fading moon through the blasted apart ceiling. A woman's face was there, white as the milky surface, blonde hair like an angels, silky and smooth washed around her pallid face. Sweat peppered her cheeks and the colour, slowly drained from her lips. "Its all a…dream," she had murmured.

"Yeah," Spike replied, "just a dream," seeing his reflection in her crystal blue eyes. Dead eyes. She was at peace then. _Julia_.

The first footstep way from this was the hardest. To leave it all behind. To kill the killer of your love and just walk away. It brought Spike nothing, no sense of vengeance or justice. But this had been about so much more. And was he truly alive? That was the question.

The second step was hard, pain in his open wound cause him to wrap his arm tightly around himself. The next few steps were a blur as pain and a white light, seeming to come from no where strangled his vision. It was hard, painful and utterly soul wrenching. But he was alive. Truly he was.

He was halfway down now. Halfway down from the stairway to heaven when it all began to make sense. Over a dozen men, Vicious' men, waited for him below. Their bodies bathed in the serene milky light that seeped in at the corner of spikes eyes, making everything look beautiful. Even in this destroyed throne room that smelled of nothing but scorched blood and powder smoke.

The men's faces, all pulled up toward their eyes in disbelief as they held weapons loosely. The tangy taste of blood as it leaked onto spikes lips reminded him: _You_ _are_ _alive._ And he was. But for how much longer? If he made it out of the building and back to the Bebop, then what. The Red Dragons wouldn't be happy and as long as he was with Jet and Faye, they were a target as big as he was.

Slowly, like some old mechanical clock, Spike raised his head to look them in the eyes, each and every one of them as they waited to kill him. Spike let them see a smile. A last smile, one for the road; as he raised his hand weakly toward them in the imitation of a gun.

Faye and Jet would be safe. He would not burden them anymore. That was the parting gift he could leave them. The way out of the dark tunnel he was in sealed itself up. The end was here and it was the only way it could have ended. He'd known it all along. So had Faye when she tried to stop him leaving. Poor Faye. Poor Jet. They were so special, so important. Why was he thinking that now. Jet Black, the best friend he could ever want, and Faye Valentine…Faye Valentine…

_Everything is clearer now_. Spike Spiegel had the last laugh as he gave up, "Bang." Imitation recoil.

Then the carpeted steps rushed up to meet his face with a welcoming hug of red.

White birds fluttering over head as dawn finally broke.

Blue sky, peaceful as the calm ocean.

Life is just a dream…that's never ending.

Red star to the north, simmering out amongst countless others.

Never ending. Free. Ascending.


	2. The Cold Hard Truth

Its robably worth noting I do not own Cowboy Bebop and am in no way affiliated with its production.

Reviews, criticism and all that jazz are welcome.

* * *

**Cowboy Bebop**

**Session 27: The Real Folk Blues Part Three**

**Chapter 1: Now...**

**The Cold Hard Truth**

It was all over.

Her face had been beautiful, but now it was gaunt and weathered. Her hair had been a radiant violet, like the end of a rainbow , but now it was a drab purple. And her eyes that had once glistened the colour of dark emeralds, now, they were empty pits with nothing left to shine for. Her name had been Faye Valentine, but she didn't care anymore.

The bebop, a beaten down old planet hopper far too big for a two man crew, was going nowhere. She lay on her belly with her long prow rammed into the Martian surface. Riddled with shot and shell, she belched corkscrewing black fumes into the mauve sky above from her open wounds.

It was difficult, to look at her like this. For Jet Black, his pride and joy -the bebop- had cost him more woolongs than he cared to remember, and now he had to consider how much all the repairs would be. If she could even be repaired. Looking high above the main deck, which still bore the afterburner scorches of an old racing ship, was the bridge; Jet felt a pang of relief that it was still in tact.

He was a large man, with a balding head and a thick black beard that pulled out like some surreal mane of a lion. His left arm was a cybernetic replacement and a titanium plate held together a part of his cheek bone just below his scarred, right eye.

He sighed heavily and stepped back aboard the bebop, at least the door cycles were still working. The lights were always a dull shade of white, that let shadows bounce around the companionways and compartments like spectres waiting to pounce.

There was a faint sobbing in the distance, from the living room, where poor Faye would be. The last few nights had been rough on her. Hell, the last few years had been rough on her. But even now, as the broken woman she'd once been, Faye Valentine was still a selfish kid at heart.

Jet rubbed a metallic palm across the dome of his head and drew in an sharp breath, readying himself for the possibility of a Faye Valentine sized mood swing. Gingerly, he stuck his head through the circular doorway, then took a casual step in. Clearing his throat and consciously making himself stand up straight, Jet watched from the summit of the small stairwell. The living space below with its ever present twin yellow couches and coffee table, at least some things didn't change.

Faye's sobbing drew his eyes around the room in search of her, until he finally saw her, huddled in a corner with knees pulled up to her chest and face buried in her hands. A couple of photographs had escaped her grip and sat face up, speckled with tear jewels glistening in the light. A man in a blue suit, lanky legged and green haired, featured in each of them. Jet noticed himself in a couple but Faye had clearly been most torn up by the pictures of the green haired man.

Jet recognised a rare memory from Ganymede in a photograh he'd taken. She stood smiling (and that was a rare thing) with an inebriated man -the green haired one- wrapping an arm around her for support. The image lay crumpled on the floor where she'd crushed it in anger and despair.

Jet drew a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of his dusty blue overalls and shuffled down the stairs toward miss Valentine. She didn't look up at him, just sobbed quietly in the corner until he towered over her, blocking out the light with his bulk.

"Faye,"

She looked up at him through teary jade eyes and quickly used balled fists to dam them up. Her voice trembled like a gentle breeze as she tried to speak. At last, she stammered, "What?"

Jet slumped down onto the floor across from her, resting the crown of his head against the thick yellow leather of the couch side. He extended the packet of cigarettes toward her and said, "Smoke?"

She thanked him in a half hearted tone and took one. Usually her smoking didn't seem to detract from her beauty but now she looked like a decrepit old crone just firing one up and waiting for cancer to give her the long sleep. She let him light the cigarette for her, jutting out the tip to give him the hint. And then after her first draw, and an unexpected cough, she said, "What did you find out?"

"You sure you want to hear this Faye?" Jet said, smoking his own cigarette and trying to suppress the butterflies that fluttered in his guts.

"Just tell me, Jet," she said in a soft, but forceful voice, trying hard not to break down again.

He'd had the fleeting hope that she'd rather live in denial than want to hear the truth. Jet felt his heart sink past his feet as he had to go over the details again. Hearing them was hard enough but now he had to tell them to an already depressed young woman.

He cleared his throat and stubbed the half smoked cigarette out on the floor, "Spike…Spike Spiegel's dead, Faye," he said the words as fast and clearly as he could.

She looked up at him with a blank stare, tears dried in her eyes and then she gave him a painfully slow nod. "I…I figured,"

"Are you sure you do Faye?" Jet forced the bitter words out, he didn't want to say them but he had to. If she didn't really see it then Faye was doing herself more damage than all the smokes in the world could.

"I don't know…I, I just wish he'd said something," Her voice quivered again, "Spike, you lunkhead,"

"The funerals in two days, Faye. I want you to come,"

"Sure, you don't need to ask," she said, still nodding slower than Jet thought possible.

"Bob gave me this," Jet said, producing the chunky Jericho nine four one pistol that had been Spike Spiegel's favoured weapon.

"Spike's pistol?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, they found it at the scene, Bob said I could take it, even though ISSP'll probably have his arse for it,"

"Jet…thanks," she said, taking the pistol and looking at the memento.

"Bring it to the funeral with you,"

She looked up at him, her eyes hardening to their old selves of a confident jade. "Are you expecting trouble. The Red Dragons maybe?"

"I think its probably gonna be safe, but, you'll know why you need it, when the time comes,"

"What do you mean, Jet,"

Jet Black stayed quiet. Looking at the cigarette lighter in his hand, he sparked up another and gave Faye a forced _Don__'__t worry about it _smile. Then, as Faye stretched her legs out, covered only by the skin-pink stockings and yellowish gold hot-pants, he pulled himself to his feet and left her in the dim living room. Left her to think, left her to accept what he'd given her as fact; even though neither he or the ISSP had a valid conclusion about it.


	3. The dog And The Shrew

**Chapter 2: The Dog And The Shrew**

Faye had been a broken woman, until Spike Spiegel's funeral. Now she was seething with rage, her little fists balled tighter than stones and her skin flushed hot with blood. Even the black mourning dress Jet had bought for her seemed rigid with anger as she moved in heavy stomping movements through the Bebop.

Jet hadn't looked at her since they'd seen Spike's casket and he damn well was right not to. If he even dared to give her an excuse then she'd be attending another funeral before the week was out. The casket, the casket where Spike Spiegel should have been laying, had been open. Inside: nothing. An empty casket with an open lid, alongside the full casket of his precious, plain Julia.

She followed behind Jet as he led her back into the living space of the bebop and slumped down onto the yellow couch. He looked out of place in a dark suit and for the briefest of moments, Faye wondered how odd she must look, all covered up in the long black dress and a dark veil covering her face. She followed and sat in the chair opposite the couch, fixing Jet with a piercing gaze. He looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with one of the belching coolant pipes in the ceiling.

"Dinner," he muttered, so quietly he sounded more like a timid child than the behemoth of a man he was.

"It was a lovely service, don't you think?" Her bitter voice echoed in the silence.

"Faye-"

"Cut the crap Jet. You told me he was dead," she said, raising her voice for the first time in days. She bolted up and stepped forward, raising her clenched fist at him before shouting, "Why didn't you tell me there was no body?"

"Fa-"

"You let me go on thinking he was dead, beating myself up because…because…"

"Because what Faye?"

She scolded him and stepped back, folding her arms and looking away at the dirt coloured floor. "Never mind,"

"It got you in the shower, didn't it Faye. It got you to fix yourself up and stop sitting in that corner like a whining little girl," Jet said, standing up to meet her gaze and looking deep for what she had tried to say.

"You should have let me grieve in my own way," her voice was quiet now, deadly serious.

"Yeah. You mean like how I let Spike grieve in his own way. Meanwhile, I'm left to pick up the pieces whenever he heard the name Julia," Jets face was hard and unforgiving as he stepped forward and, far quicker than Faye had expected, grabbed her by the wrist.

He pulled her close until she could smell the bland scent of noodles on his breath, and years of oil soaked into his pores "Jet," she struggled but his metallic fingers were vice-tight, "Let go of me,"

He growled deeply and leaned down so they were at eye level, relaxing his grip. She felt her eyes moisten, just from looking into Jets cold dark pupils. After a moment he said, "You know how sick I was of waiting for him to come back, or cleaning up after his mess…I'm glad Speigel's gone,"

"You don't mean that," Faye screamed, going to slap Jets face with fiery palms. He caught her by the wrist and shoved her backward.

"He got what he asked for. The whole time I knew him, Speigel was happy to put himself in harms way and every time he left I asked myself: _is this the last time I__'__ll see him_?"

Faye slumped back onto the couch and tossed her veil aside. Then, lighting up a cigarette she said, "So, you're trying to tell me you didn't care about him,"

"Did you?" Jet said, moving over toward the galley.

Faye quickly changed the subject, hoping Jet hadn't seen her cheeks begin to burn, "Well, do you even think he's dead. I mean, you've given up on him even though there's no body?"

"Bob said there was a lot of blood,"

"In the syndicate building?" Faye dragged on her cigarette before following Jet into the galley.

"Yeah. He said there was a body for every floor, at least. And that in the throne room…"

"What," Faye said stomping closer to Jet and spinning him around to face her.

She jolted back with surprise as Jet's usually granite cut face appeared soft and turned down at every corner. His cold eyes had warmed and he fought hard to keep tears from escaping. He span on one heel, quickly fixing his gaze back on the stove and cupboards.

"Bob told me it was the throne room of the Red Dragon building where he died."

"But there was no body," Faye said, lowering her voice for Jets comfort.

"Yeah, but from what the ISSP concluded was that two people had _probably_ died there."

"Probably?" Faye asked uncertainly. Then, she listened as Jet explained to her that one man had been shot, and the other--hacked open with a sword. Blood that littered the throne room was matched to two people: Spike and Vicious. But what surprised Faye, what stopped her heart with fear for a moment was when Jet told her there was no corpse for Vicious either.

"And that's not all," Jet said.

"What else," Faye, slumped down onto one o the galley stools while Jet dumped the last packet of fresh noodles and some mushrooms into a pan of sizzling water.

He stirred them slowly, his head arching upward as he stared off into space, "They found the Swordfish two,"

"What…Spikes ship?"

"Yeah, it'd been abandoned some place. Top of a parking garage I think Bob said,"

"So…"

"Yeah. If Spike's alive, don't you think he'd have taken that thing outta here?"

"I guess," Faye said, finishing her cigarette. Then, looking at Jets back while he stirred the dinner, "But he might still be alive. We owe it to him to look at least. What if he's bleeding somewhere and hurt an-"

"I don't owe him shit anymore Faye," Jet said, tensing up over the noodles and the wooden stirring spoon, splintered in his metallic fingers.

"That's a lie, Jet Black," Faye said, rolling her head down and wishing she'd never heard him.

"No it ain't. I told you, I was getting sick of him screwing about and he knew it. He knew after he took off that last time he wasn't coming back. That's why I made him dinner and thats why I didn't try to stop him,"

"Don't you even wonder-"

"God dammit Faye," Jet wheeled around with the shattered spoon in his hand, eyes blazing furiously, "Of course I wonder, of course I hope and of course I wish. But he ain't coming back and I don't want him to, even if he is alive."

"Why?" Faye said, cowering slightly against the galley bulkhead as Jet became a snarling beast.

"Listen up Faye, because I'm only gonna say this the once and if you bring it up again, You'll be off the Bebop in a heart beat,"

"Okay," she nodded.

"That green haired idiot was like a brother to me. If he comes back then I have to start worrying again and if he's alive, then I'll bet vicious is too and that's a mess I _can__'__t _get mixed up in again. I ain't gonna risk loosing him a second time," he quickly turned back to the stove and began stabbing at the noodles with the spoon hilt.

Faye pouted, climbing up from the stool and shuffling over next to Jet at the stove. At last she managed to say, "I get it." she sighed and added, "I guess I've been wallowing in self pitty,"

"You guess?"

"Hey," she snapped, "this ain't easier for me you know. Just when I start to like having you guys around, one of you runs off,"

He turned to look at her with a forced grin, tears still trying to squeeze their way through his clenched ducts, "You like having us around?"

Her Jade eyes laced with tear jewels as she blinked, "Uh huh. But if you ever say that again I'll kill you,"

"My lips are sealed," he said, then forced himself to laugh, and Faye did too.

After dinner they sat across the coffee table, staring at each other. Faye felt better, in her usual attire of yellow hot pants, suspenders and a matching top that left almost nothing to the imagination. He didn't say it, but she could tell Jet liked his overalls better than the suit he'd been wearing too.

He looked up at her from his plate, empty but for one or two mushroom stalks and said, "How was it?"

"Good, all things considered,"

"Yeah, I didn't feel much like eating either," Jet said, setting his chopsticks down and shoving the plate away to make room for his feet.

Faye lay down on the couch with one leg hanging crooked over the backrest. She stared up into the half broken pipes and steam venting machinery for a long time. She only realised Jet had gone when she heard the sound of the dishwasher.

"Jet!" she yelped, jolting up on the couch.

He stuck his head back around the door with a surprised look, "Jeez Faye I thought you'd had a heart attack or something."

She gave him a wry smile and said, "I want to go to the Red Dragon building…can I borrow your hammerhead," she wasn't a fan of Jets ugly little ship, but with her Red-Tail still trashed she couldn't really get there any other way.

"No,"

"What? You can't stop me from going, y'know," she snarled, his rejection tasting more bitter than the Ocha she'd drunk at the funeral.

"I don't mean too. In fact Faye, if you want closure on this matter I'm happy to help you. Until I get the bebop fixed, then I'm outta here, with or without you,"

"So lend me the hammerhead…what, you don't think I'll bring it back,"

Jet shook his head as he walked back into the living room. A dishtowel and plate busy at work in his hands. "No," he said at last, "I don't think you'll bring it back because I don't think you'll be coming back. When it all finally hits you," he paused for a moment, locking her eyes to make sure she heard him. Then said, "I don't want the ISSP to be scraping you off the pavement and me having to mess around with identifications and burials,"

Faye was about to refute him and shout, but he cut her off with a hand wave and sat down across from her. Still drying the dish, he said, "I'll fix up the Red-Tail and then, we'll both go to the syndicate building,"


	4. The Dragons Den

**Chapter 3: The Dragons Den**

It was the dead of night, two days later when Jet finally fixed the Red-Tail and took Faye to see the syndicate building. He hadn't slacked off, the Red-Tail was just in a far sorrier state than either of them had realised. It wasn't like Faye, normally quite happy to let the boys do all the work for her-although now it was just boy, but she'd actually helped with the repair. She'd tried to at least, though Jet got pretty steamed up when someone doubled his workload and had yelled at her to: "Go sunbathe or something!"

That morning, when the Swordfish two had showed up, carried in on one of the heavy freight lifters the ISSP used for impounding vehicles, she'd almost had a heart attack. Then, not long after she felt a pitch of sadness and self loathing as she looked up at its aerodynamic, sharp edged fuselage of what made her think of a big red dart with wings.

She still felt bad, even as she looked up at the towering syndicate building with dozens of blown out windows stretching all the way up to the top floor. Even from ground level, Faye could see the whole roof section had been blasted out.

Jet's metallic hand clasped her bare shoulder and made her realise just how cold the nights air really was. Cold enough for her to pull the red jacket she wore through the sleeves up on to her shoulders. Then, without a word, big old Jet Black started toward the yellow and black tape that surrounded the building with ISSP DO NOT CROSS written on it in big white lettering.

The night guard had gone off somewhere, probably for a smoke or a piss but they had permission to take a quick look around anyway. At least, that was what Jet had told her. He strained a grin as he held up the tape for her to step under. Faye's toes curled and her bare creamy thighs trembled--either from the cold or from fear of what she might see.

After what felt like an age, she ducked under the tape and caught the glance in Jets eyes. It must have been hard for him, he'd seen this place once already while she'd been sat around wallowing in self pity. At that moment, she felt disgusted with herself. _When exactly had Faye Valentine become so weak? _She silently promised herself to buck things up and troop on no matter what, that's what Spike would have done and even now, that was what Jet was doing. Even though, whether he said it or not, it was killing the poor bastard on the inside.

Jet nodded down at her as he clearly became frustrated with the wait. He was barely off his crutch and she was dilly-dallying like some foolish schoolgirl. Faye felt sorry for him, wanting to say it was alright if he didn't want to see the inside again, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't let her go in alone.

The stench was the first thing Faye noticed, entering the building. It was the pungent bitter tang of blood that stained the air like gunpowder smoke. She wrinkled her nose at it and felt teardrops crest her eyes. It must have been bad because Jet was doing the same thing too, while looking around the syndicate lobby.

Bullet holes marked both flanks of the lobby and crimson smears painted the walls in large dripping puddles. ISSP had taken care of the bodies but evidently there was still a hell of a clean up job. Faye had seen death before but not like this, it made her think of some surreal war zone and the invading army had been just one man: Spike Spiegel. She smiled for a moment, only a man as impressive as Spike could pull this off. Maybe he was alive; somewhere.

"I can tell you how it went, if you want," Jet said somewhere between a whisper and a choke.

"How it went?" she said, looking in awe.

"Well, I can guess. I knew Spike well enough to know how he fights,"

"Alright, tell me," she said in a soft silky voice.

Jet nodded and walked to the centre of the lobby where the yellow trimmed red carpet was scorched black and had been burnt to the marble floor. Jet gestured around himself and grinned, almost sincerely for the first time in days.

"He tossed a grenade in to say hello. Although, knowing spike I bet he was lazy and just kicked it in here," he laughed, Faye caught herself chuckling at the very real prospect too. Then, Jet continued, beckoning her to follow him toward one of the escalators. "I bet he ran through here and got the idiots behind the desks to shoot each other." he waved at the blood smeared walls and then stepped onto the escalator with Faye.

"I bet I know what happened there," she said, looking at the adjacent escalator that was blown apart about halfway up.

"C4," they said together with a smile.

Jet stepped off at the top and guided Faye along a blood draped piece of carpeting toward the main elevator. Oversized columns flanked it with bullet wounds peppering their surface. The ride up to the top was smooth and surreal amidst the silent battlefield.

Faye followed Jet at every corner, hanging on his every word and speculation about who spike had killed, where, and how. He was even smart enough to pick out when Spike had taken hits himself, though Faye suspected that was from the ISSP forensic experts analysing the blood stains and leaving little folded cards with numbers and letters by the blood. She felt quite perturbed when Jet suddenly stopped and touched a knuckle to his chin, head slightly bowed as he gazed at a scarlet puddle dried to the floor near an elevator.

"What is it?" Faye asked.

"I dunno. Something just doesn't seem to add up here,"

"Whaddya mean?" she said, squatting down to look at the blood.

"It looks like, whoever died here, that…that they were fighting with Spike,"

"What?"

"I dunno, maybe its just a coincidence." he paused and looked out of a bullet shattered window. "But I'd like to think Spike still had a friend willing to do the right thing in the end. Don't you? Maybe it was that Rin guy," Jet mused, patting his bandaged leg.

Faye nodded and followed Jet as he distractedly tore himself from the scene. She followed him around a few corners and into a long straight hallway, elegantly decorated with the only battle wounds being a well spaced out drip of blood.

Even Faye, a girl more interested in gambling than combat analysis any day of the week, could see what had happened here. Spike had sprinted with those long, lanky (and sometimes sexy) legs, all the way to the end of the hall. The poor bastard had already taken a hit by this point.

When they stepped into the Syndicate master's throne room: Vicious' throne room. Faye was gob smacked by the destruction wrought here. Spike really was a one man army.

Whatever explosives had gone off in the throne room had done their job, damn well. Rafters had shook free from the ceiling and every single pane of glass had exploded from pressure. Faye kicked a chunk of debris out of her way as Jet led her toward the oversized staircase before them.

He looked around and after a moments respite, he began the long climb up the stairway to the Dragon's throne. Or the stairway to heaven, as it had been for spike. Faye followed quickly, wishing she hadn't worn her favourite white boots as they scuffed and dirtied amidst the carnage.

After what felt like a hundred or so steps, they finally crested the brink of the stairs and looked onto where Spike and Vicious had fought their final battle. Unless Spike was still alive, Faye thought hopefully. The floor was littered with bullet casings and scorched blood in a roundabout dance that represented the movements of the two combatants.

Faye only noticed Jet after she'd looked at some of the bullet casings on the floor and taken a long look at the dust covered throne in the platforms centre. For some reason, Jet Black was sat on the top step, looking down at the bloody trail that had been made on the stairs. He smoked a cigarillo in great long draws. For a moment Faye thought she knew what he'd seen. There was a footprint, and not just that--it was leading away from the scene! Someone had walked away from this and looking at the odd shape, she recognised it. Those stupid boots spike always wore.

Her heart sank, when she realised what he was really looking at. She hadn't paid it any attention walking up but now she could see, the print lead down the stairs, into a dried up blood stream and finally into a reservoir where a body had fallen halfway down the stairs. She felt the hot feeling of despair in her chest again and cursed herself. The ISSP wouldn't miss such an obvious clue, stupid girl; she thought.

The moon shone in from over head and lit Jet up in his own personal spotlight, as Faye slumped down beside him. For a moment she felt an urge to take his hand and cry some more, to use his chest as a pillow and his voice as a lullaby. But she couldn't. Remembering the promise she'd made not long ago, that would be selfish, to make Jet her confidant when he was struggling; probably more than she was. And then, she realised just how hard it was for Jet.

For the first time since they'd met she noticed his strong, stiff mouth was turned down at the corners and hung sloppily like the face paint of a sad clown. But it was his eyes, his strong dark eyes that always seemed to reflect determination and honour. They were drab and defeated, tiny tears threatened to spill over at the lip of his eye lids. One of them finally did, and ran down his cheek, disappearing into his thick beard. Faye felt her heart skip a dozen beats at the sight and snapped her head away, pretending it hadn't happened.

"Jet?" she said, still not looking at him, instead, concentrating on the moon overhead.

"Yeah," his voice was rough and tough, but it wasn't hard to see through the front.

"Thanks for coming here with me," It wasn't everyday she showed her thanks but today wasn't like everyday.

"Yeah, you're welcome," he said, his voice quavering.

"If I say this, promise you won't ever bring it up again?" she said quickly.

"What?" his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

"Just promise,"

"Alright, I swear it, I won't bring it up,"

She caught a glimpse of another tear from the corner of her eye but decided to ignore it. Turning to look him in the eyes, _she owed him that much_,she hurriedly said, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I put you and Spike through in the past. And I'm sorry for being so selfish the past couple of days," then snapped her head away as though she'd never said anything,

"Huh, the shrewish Faye Valentine apologising. I must be dreaming," he said, forcing a smirk and then said, "So, have you seen enough," she didn't answer right away and he continued, "because if I don't get outta here soon I think I'm gonna go crazy,"

Faye's mouth fell open but she had no words to say. It was rare she found herself speechless but then again, it was even more scarce to think of Jet Black as being capable of fear, anguish or any other emotion that would betray his calm, stone like image. She worked her jaw for a moment, getting used to using her voice again before she finally managed, "Yeah, sure thing Jet,"

"Alright," he rose slowly and turned toward the throne where it was clear the main fight had unfolded, "I'll miss that green haired idiot," he muttered.

"Oh wait," Faye said, "I forgot something," she looked to the blood in fornt of the throne and then remembered Spike had fallen on the stairwell. She turned and hopped down to where the reservoir of blood had dried up.

"What is it?"

"This," she said, pulling out the Jericho nine four one and ejecting the magazine.

"Ahh, Faye you were supposed to put that in his casket!"

"What? I thought it was a memento, for us to remember him by,"

"No. That's why I took the swordfish two, the gun was a gift for him,"

"You shoulda said," she paused and looked at the magazine in her hand, slowly ejecting five bullets with her thumb. "I'll go put it on his grave when we're done here,"

"What are those bullets for,"

She smiled sheepishly, feeling stupid at her idea but after a moment she said, red faced, "There's one for each of us," she said, laying the five bullets in the blood, rubbing one of them and standing it on its base. "Bullets, money and blood. Seems like that's all we ever got with Spike," she added as she tossed a handful of woolongs into the pile that she'd carefully counted out to fifty--she'd only waste them at the race track otherwise. Then, finally she dropped a few of her old betting slips -mostly losers- into the pile.

"Huh, never thought I'd see you do anything like that,"

"Well, I won't be doing it again unless you up and die on me too," she snapped, suddenly getting the feeling that Jet thought she was weak. Then, seeing the hurt look in his eyes, she said, "Okay, I think we should go now,"

"Yeah, I'll see you back on the bebop. And when you bury that pistol, make sure it's a few inches under, otherwise it'll probably be snagged by some kids,"

"Right,"

Jet settled the hammerhead gently in the Bebop's dock. After quickly checking the mirrors, satisfied Faye could manoeuvre the Red-Tail back in when she returned, he lit up one of the cigarillos from his top pocket. Their sweet aroma and taste comforted him while he sat in the Hammerhead in the _big_ _empty_ hanger.

Half a cigarillo later he realised how hungry he was, and how thirsty. Jet knew there were a crate of bell peppers in one of the storage rooms and some beef in aft storage where Spike had once stored a Ganymede rock lobster. Of course it was Jet who had to replace the refrigerator after that little escapade. As far as his drink went though, Jet could only hope Faye hadn't pillaged the last of the bourbon he'd stashed in Spike's old room. She'd already gone through most of the Tequila and Rye after the jackass had run off.

After dumping the beef and bell peppers on the stove, he went to check it out. The bebop sounded far too empty with just him there; the sound of his metal boots clanged around the corridors like drum beats and the humming from the neon lights buzzed like a thousand bees. Jet smoked the last of the cigarillo and stubbed the butt out against the door frame of Spikes room.

It wasn't in the least surprising that Spike had left his room a mess, and Jet had no desire to fix it up. If that's how Spike had wanted it, then that was fine by Jet. Despite all the bedding strewn about and clothes -mostly yellow shirts and blue trousers- packed in bulging old cardboard boxes, the room seemed overly empty.

Jet pulled out the old brown crate from under Spikes bed where most things would stay safe from his mitts. Food and cigarettes disappeared real quick but Spike wasn't much of a drinker, so half a bottle of bourbon still idled there. Aside it were a pack of cards and a few poker chips along with an old pair of Jets sunglasses and a set of headphones. _When did all this stuff get put in here? _

Back in the kitchen, the stove blazing hotly with its bright blue flame, Jet tossed the bell peppers and beef while draining the golden brown bourbon. The last drops of the liquor fogged around his mind and made him smile as he watched the _big empty _wok of food swirl around in the sizzling heat. Without thinking he grabbed a set of chop-sticks and picked a chunk of beef straight out of the wok. The moment it touched his tongue, he regretted it.

Jet howled in pain as the hot beef scorched his tongue. He dropped the chopsticks into the wok from pain and his bionic arm shattered the empty bourbon bottle on instinct. There was probably a lot of truth to the idea that cooking and drinking didn't mix.

A short while later, Jet sat at the coffee table in the yellow chair opposite the empty yellow couch. The plate of Bell peppers and beef was _empty_, his stomach still felt _empty_ too, the halls and rooms were _empty_ in the _big empty _bebop with its _big empty _hanger. **Big empty hanger!**

Jet sprang to his feet and sprinted through the ship, ducking through the doorways into the hanger.

"Uh, what the hell!"

Faye brought the Red-Tail down at the summit of the graveyard. Orchards of little white tablets stretched out below her, marking the bed and breakfasts where nobody ever needed breakfast. She hopped out of the life capsule and settled her white boots into the muddy grass of the saturated ground.

She sighed heavily, looking down to where she vaguely recalled the funeral being held the other day. A heavy gulp swelled up in her throat as the prospect of visiting Spike's empty grave got closer. She quashed it with a swallow and started out down the rain slicked path, pulling her scarlet jacket over her head as the rain came down hard.

For the first time in her life Faye valentine witnessed a miracle. She'd never believed in such things; deceive or be deceived, easy come easy go and shoot them before they shoot you were what she had always believed. Now she saw something right in front of her that was far more than mere coincidence.

A man, stood in front of one of the many graves within this archive of the dead. He was the only person there aside from Faye and she pulled her jacket higher, shielding her face to get a better look through the rain. He wore a long overcoat and held a soggy bunch of roses in his right hand. A cigarette dangled from his lip with a pillar of smoke drifting in the rain. Nothing too special about that. But he had scraggly puffed out hair and the guy looked like he was all legs. Far more importantly was the grave he stood at. Spike's grave. No, not Spike's grave…Julia's grave!

Impulsive was a word Jet had often used to describe both Spike and Faye. But even the cool headed Jet wouldn't be able to control his impulses if he were here. Faye found herself sprinting faster than she thought she could, down the steps toward the mourning rose barer. She watched him set the rose bunch down on the grave of Julia and then turn away from her. _No! why was fate so unfair, why didn__'__t he turn toward her? Why not see her? _

The rain was pretty heavy and the sound of the droplets spattering on the pathways and graves were pretty noisy along with the click of her heels, but it was dead of night. He should be able to hear her. She yelled out to him and pushed herself to run faster, feeling the burn in her legs. The man didn't look back, instead he just kept walking. Faye cursed silently and began jumping down the steps two of three at a time.

"Hey! Can't you he-" She stumbled over her own high heels and quickly found the steps below her rushing up to meet her face.

Sheslammed hard on her face and moaned painfully as she looked up across the path that had met her face. She tasted the copper tang of blood on her busted lips and smelled it in her trickling nose. Her knees and arms ached where they'd grazed but she shrugged it off, drawing on her reserves as she fought to her feet.

She looked around but it was too late, the man had disappeared. "Hey, where'd you go!" she must have shouted at least five times while spitting out gobbets of blood.

The roses she'd seen were wilting by Julia's graves as their petals drifted off in the rain. She hadn't dreamt it. Someone had definitely been there. She let her tears mix with the rainwater and blood on her scuffed face as she knelt down in front of Spike's grave. She hastily buried the Jericho pistol at the graves head before swiping up the roses and inhaling their aroma: Cigarettes and flowers. It had to be spike, who else would it be? She grabbed her phone and started to punch in Jets number. It rang before she could finish with Jets number on the screen.

"Faye!" Jet said the second she answered.

"Jet, I was ju-"

"Faye you aren't gonna-"

"Jet you have to-"

"Listen Faye, just shut up fo-"

"No, its him Jet-"

"Hold on Faye, listen for a moment," Jet said, refusing to let her cut him off. His video image held up silencing hands.

"Fine, go ahead,"

"It's the swordfish two Faye. Someone's taken it!"

"What? Who,"

"I dunno, it ain't here though. But what did you have to say? And are you okay, you're cut?"

"Huh," she sniffed up the blood and wiped her lips, "I'm fine Jet. But its Spike,"

"Huh?"

"I just saw Spike."


	5. No Rest For The Wicked

Thanks for the reviews Serenity.

I thought Fayes little tribute was kinda stupd personally, but then, I always felt Faye would have no idea how to deal with that kinda stuff and probably do somthing a little bit...silly.

Anywho, it looks like Spike's alive so we'll probably see Faye and Jet getting out of the dumps a little. For this chapter we're gonna see some new (or old) cast members added and it looks like Jet is finally going to get the Bebop going again.

Enjoy chapter 4

* * *

**Chapter: 4**

**No Rest For The Wicked**

The sensory pads on Jet Black's fingers hurt. They were cold and rugged like the rough side of a sponge. Faye couldn't keep the grimace from her face as Jet's fingers dug into her shoulder blades hard enough to leave bruised gorges in her milky skin.

His eyes blazed with renewed determination and a fire that she'd never seen before. Something about it made her stomach flutter as she recoiled from the pain as he stared hard into her face. She had to bite her lower lip -which had only just clotted- to keep a painful tear from escaping the corner of her eyes. It seemed that was when Jet realised how much he was hurting her and let go.

"Sorry Faye,"

"Good," she said, rubbing her sore shoulders and pulling her soaked jacket up to cover the marks.

"Did you really see him?" Jet asked, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, "What did he look like?"

"I'm not clueless Jet. I know what I saw, it was spike I'm sure of it. He was putting a rose on," she looked down and let her features crease up in near-disgust, "Julia's grave."

Jet stepped back, jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide in the Bebop's half-light. He passed a metallic hand across his bald scalp and looked at Faye carefully. "You get an idea of where he went?"

"No. I…" she hesitated, not wanting to sound clumsy, "I lost sight of him,"

"Lost? How?"

Faye kept her eyes on the floor and mumbled to herself. Jet asked her outright a second time before she relented her clumsy mistake. He didn't give her any grief over it; in fact it seemed to roll right off of him. He looked up for a moment, in deep thought while Faye slumped onto the yellow chair and put her feet up.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

"I dunno, maybe ISSP'll come up with a more thorough report by the end of the week."

"And meanwhile Spike does who knows what to himself?"

"Well, if it was Spike who came back here for the Swordfish, then he could be relaxing on venus by now," Jet mused.

"Isn't there a tracker on the swordfish or something."

"Nah, nothing like that, it was just an old racer with a cannon on it. Besides Spike never liked to leave an electronic paper trail,"

Faye cupped her palms to her cheeks and let out an exasperated breath. Jet was right about that. Whenever she disappeared they found her easily, she never thought far enough ahead, always taking things that would set them on her trail. Maybe she did it on purpose. But Spike liked his privacy and she always felt he personally enjoyed that little sense of mystique.

"What about the Gate records, there's gotta be-"

"Wait a minute Faye." Jet said, standing up straight, "You'r right. We can track him, it just might take a little longer." he grinned to himself, "Unless," Faye grinned with him now, "we can get hold of a computer genius,"

"Radical Edward," Faye smirked at the idea of seeing the lunatic red head girl again. It would be just like the old days…when they found Spike.

"Right, Faye you see about finding Ed and I'll go round up some help,"

"Help?"

"We'll need the Bebop for this. I'll go see about getting some help fixing her up," he told her as he climbed the companionway and made to leave.

"Wait a minute Jet," Faye stumbled after him, "How do I find Ed?"

"I got an e-mail from her after that…incident."

"Incident?"

"The time we almost wound up dead thanks to Spike and his stupid sea food." he said, trying not to smile at the good old memory. "Anyway, when we woke up in the hospital on Mars, she sent an e-mail. I made a note of the return address in case we ever needed to get in touch with her but…"

"But what?" Faye said, eying him cautiously.

"Uhh. I lost it in aft storage somewhere,"

"You what!" She threw her arms up and puffed out her cheeks but before she could shout at him any further, Jet ducked out of sight and disappeared leaving the ghostly after image of his foolish grinning face.

Faye didn't waste anytime if it was for Spike. She spent hours digging through aft storage, getting the shakes every time she looked at the refrigerator that had replaced the one Spike flushed out into space. The idea of eating anything out of it gave her the creeps.

After a long, sweaty three hours that turned aft storage upside down and caused a few breakages, Faye found a small sheet of paper with a big smiley face printed on it and a line of computer babble below it. On the back, in Jet's scrawled handwriting was a web address. Faye smiled, thoroughly pleased with the fruit of her effort and slid the paper into her pocket. It was late, Jet had already turned in and she decided to do the same, right after sending a brief email asking add to get in touch. She didn't really know about this email stuff but she figured by slapping words like important, super cool and we need you--then Ed wouldn't be able to resist.

Something odd struck Faye as she entered her room. _Was the desk lamp out of place? No_. Her bed clothes weren't creased and the open wardrobe was still full of her clothes. Her stash box! The little box she kept under her bed had been moved, she never left it poking out from under the bed. If Jet had been going through her stuff he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

She pulled it out and gave a quick rummage through. All her cigarettes and bullets seemed to be in place. Then, she noticed the folded sheet of paper. "What the?"

She unfolded the sheet and looked at it, confirming it was nothing to do with her. It was blank white except for the black scrawled letters at the middle that said: Nine hundred thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine.

Fay shrugged, stuffing it in her pocket before going to bed. Jet might know something about it. She'd ask him tomorrow.

Jet felt the beads of warm sweat run down his shiny forehead and catch atop his big square framed sunglasses. The heat of the sun and enclosed city streets made him feel as though he was boiling away.

The pavement outside of a little café perspired under the sun and the tarmac, so hot that Jets feet peeled from its surface. But it was under the shaded pleasure of a sun umbrella where Jet's attention lay.

"Yup, I remember when me and my two best buddies dug out those old ships,"

"And so da we ya old fool, because we're the two buddies you're talking about,"

Three old men with open collared shirts and wide sombreros sat at the small sun shaded table. Each had a mug of bear and bundle of smokes by their right hand. They each held a fan of cards as they wagered with their cigarettes and reminisced about the old days.

Jet stood over them. Blocking out even more of the sun and removing his shades to reveal the sweat slicked fleshy eyes under them. "I heard three skilled mechanics played cards in front of this place,"

The all looked up at him with curious eyes and the eldest looking of the three (though not much older) said, "Depends who's asking. And what for?"

"I just need some help with my ship,"

"You a cop?"

"Do I look like a cop?"

"No. But ya smell like one,"

"Look I ain't a cop. And I'll pay you what I can,"

"Well, we do need the money," said one of the old men.

"And I reckon its about time we got some more work on our resumes," said another.

The leader looked at Jet and said, "Alright young un, you got yourself a deal. So long as you got some woolongs to back it up."

Oil dripped discomfortingly onto the centre of Faye's forehead. She bit her lip and turned her nose up at the awful smell and the very prospect of such brute manual labour.

She slid out from under the piece of engine she'd been tightening and looked up at Jet, his arms folded and had decided to make himself supervisor. What a stupid idea, Faye thought, she could motivate a lot better than Jet could and he was the engineer, not her. She did however, feel surprisingly snug and warm in a spare set of Jets overalls--the red ones with long sleeves that she could use as gloves.

He glanced down at her and she felt humiliated by her oil covered face and the mess her hair must have been. Faye pouted at Jet and saw his face soften into a genuinely sympathetic smile. She loosened her grip on the spanner she held in the fold of the overall sleeve that easily enveloped her delicate fingers.

"Something wrong?" Jet said, picking up a welding tool from the crate beside him.

"Of course there is Jet. I don't know the first thing about fixing stuff that isn't on the Red-Tail…and even then its questionable."

One of the dirty old men Jet had found to help fix the bebop said, "I wouldn't question her fixing me up,"

Faye thought to throw him a scowl, but the old coots weren't perturbed by either words or violence in their perverted come-ons. There was comfort in the fact that, at least their come-ons were proof of how good she looked.

"I told you," Jet said, "just tighten up those nu," his eyes glanced at the old men, listening for a lead in, "Bolts," he said firmly.

"You know I'm only doing this for Spike's sake. Women aren't supposed to do this; we're too delicate and refined. This stuffs what men are for,"

"And to think I was worried about Faye Valentine being depressed and lonely," Jet laughed.

"Ugh, just," she was quiet for a moment as she wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes, not quite sure whether to thank Jet or hit him. At last she finished, "tell me how long this is gonna take to get finished,"

"If you quit making noise…day or so more,"

"What about if you help?"

"I am helping," he said, handing her the welding torch, "Think you can touch up that cracked pipe?" he pointed to a piece of split piping against the wall that had been spewing steam until they closed the valves.

"I guess," Faye said, she stopped short of smoothing her hair over, remembering the oil lakes on her sleeve-gloves. She grabbed the torch as Jet helped her to her feet and scuttled toward the pipe.

"Faye," Jet said, causing her to turn back with surprise on her face. "Don't forget these," he said holding out a pair of Jet Black's jet-black welding glasses.

"Gimme those," she scowled at him and his frustratingly jolly manner. She got the feeling Jet liked being in charge of her, having the little chance to tell her what to do for once because he knew she wanted to find Spike as fast as possible.

When they did find Spike, that'd change though. Jet might be able to find Spike, he was former ISSP after all, but that didn't mean she had to show him her thanks. Not when he was getting such a big kick out of her getting covered in oil and sweat anyway. She smiled for a moment; actually she'd never met a man who wouldn't get a kick out of that.

"Faye?"

"Huh?"

"You gonna stand there staring at me all day or you gonna take these and mend that pipe?"

Faye shook her head back to reality and grabbed the glasses, "Just go make dinner if you aren't gonna do anything else,"

"Boy howdy, she could make my dinner," one of the old coots said. He couldn't help but shut up for a while after that since Faye threw the spanner she'd been holding at his head and knocked the old guy out.

Faye ate dinner with Jet, while the three old men carried on working. It looked like he'd actually put some effort into it for once. Bell peppers seemed to be a staple part of Jet's cooking but today he'd obviously stopped off for something special while he picked up those old perverts.

He's prepared miso soup to start and then sushi on vinegared rice and some mizuyokan for sweet. Hell, the lunkhead had even snagged a bottle of rosé and a bunch of flowers. If she didn't know better she'd swear he was trying to court her.

"To Spike," Jet said as their glasses clinked, "The bastard who just won't die,"

Faye smiled and sipped her wine before digging into Jets well cooked cuisine. He smirked as she filled her face and then went about eating in his own reserved manner. He could smile all he wanted, Faye hadn't eaten since breakfast and had spent the last four hours doing more work than she had in her entire life--or at least the life she could remember.

It was after dinner, chewing on some of the Yakitori that Jet had made to go with an ice cold beer, that Faye finally brought up the question they'd been dancing around since yesterday. "Where do you think he is?"

Jet looked up at her over the television. Faye was draped slovenly across the couch as always while draining the beer bottle. He steepled his fingers and stared at the television set, as though one of the hundred plus channels might hold the answer. After what seemed like forever, Faye's bottle thoroughly empty, he said, "I'm not sure. If we were on any other planet I'd guess mars. But if he were gonna stay here he wouldn't have taken the Swordfish two, right?"

"How should I know." Faye said, "You knew him a lot longer than I did,"

"Yeah. But you're a hell of a lot more like him than I am," Jet shot back, then with a peculiar look on his face, "where did you go when you always used to run off?"

"Huh," she scowled at him, "I went to Calisto that time, and most of the others were for bounties. But I always came back so what are you complaining about,"

"I doubt Spike'll be interested in a bounty right now. Maybe the Ed'll know something,"

"I emailed her last night…no answer yet," she said, then stopped, her eyes wide and mouth pinched open as she remembered something. "Oh, where did I put it," she said stuffing her hands in her pockets and down the side of the couch.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something I found in my room yesterday," she said, kneeling on the floor and bending over to reach her arm as deep as she could down the side of the sofa. "Aha, this is it," she wrestled a piece of paper, folded down the middle, from the couch and handed it to Jet. "Maybe this makes sense to you," He flipped it open with a flick of his wrist and looked at it.

"You found this in your room?"

"Yeah, it was just lying there. Is it a clue,"

"I don't think so. I doubt we'll figure this out without help," he sighed and tossed the paper back at Faye.

"Besides Ed, and who knows when she'll e-mail us, if she ever does; who can help us with this. We're about the only people Spike even knew…well, that aren't dead,"

"I know someone who can help. I'll go talk to him later. You just keep waiting for Ed to call," Jet said, getting up and taking the empty dishes through to the kitchen.

"Wait a minute Jet. Who can-"

A loud knocking from the Bebop's outer door echoed around the room.

"Faye, get that will you. I'm busy," Jet shouted over the rattle of kitchenware.

"Yeah, yeah. Faye do this, Faye do that," she muttered as she cautiously made her way toward the door. She always had to do everything while Jet wasted time with Bonsai trees and cooking. She kept a hand on the grip of her Glock thirty as she came to the door and gingerly, cycled the lock open. Who would be coming right out here to the Bebop?

Faye jerked her head back quickly as the door wound open and the point of a katana washed in, its tip almost at her throat. Her eyes widened in terrified shock, her mouth agape and the pistol clattering to the floor with half a gallon of sweat. The face looking in at her was a face she thought she'd never see again.


	6. Enemies And Friends

Well, things sure have taken a turn for the worst. It looks like Faye Valentines gonna take a long tip down dead mans avenue. If your a Faye fan you should get a few tissues at the ready.

That is, unless Jet can slay the Dragon and save the princess.

Quick thanks to all the readers, hope its keeping you intrested.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Enemies And Friends **

The scream of a banshee cut through the bebop and rang out in Jets ears. Faye's scream. What was going on? Who the hell was at the door?

Jet jumped to his feet, tossing aside the book he'd been reading and grabbing a nine mil from the coffee table. He was on the move, feet banging hard enough to almost deform the decking. The hallways moved by in a blur and before he knew it Faye Valentine came into view, her Glock thirty by her feet. Seeing the silver bladed katana poised at her throat, he racked the pistol slide and took aim.

Only one man Jet had ever known about used a sword like that, and from the look on Faye's face--one of utter shock and disbelief, her whole figure trembling with the point of the sword only an inch from her oesophagus. Vicious was still alive and he had come to visit.

Faye backed up against the wall, her lips moving as though she was about to scream something.

"Faye! Get out of the way,"

"Uh," she looked at him with terrified confusion breaking through her eyes.

Jet fired a single shot and let it whistle past Faye and the sword. It was a calculated risk but Vicious had strong nerves, if he was going to kill Faye he'd have done it already and no way would that ice cold dragon flinch and stick her from shell shock.

"Wahhh, what the hell are ya doing," a voice yelled as the katana wavered and clattered to the decking.

Faye suddenly relaxed and her face screwed up in anger, "What the hell do you think _you__'__re _doing," she shouted, scooping up her Glock. From outside, the sound of a fearful animal snorted and a horses whiney preceded a snap of air and the thump of a body hitting the ground.

Jet caught up to Faye and put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her where she swayed as he aimed out into the open.

Outside, a white horse shook its head and snorted in anger. Its rider sat beside it, thrown onto his back he looked up at Faye and Jet with a goofy expression painted on a long face with blond hair. His clothes were mostly robes, reminiscent of the old samurai from far east Earth.

"Andy?" Faye said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

The samurai jumped to his feet and bowed to a ridiculous depth, "Call me, _Samurai_ _Musashii_," he corrected, "I came here for the honour of a great warrior. I came here to express my sympathies for the loss of the cowboys on board the noble stallion Bebop. And of course," he looked deeply at Faye, "The lovely miss Valentine,"

"You're that clown who Spike fought with," Jet said, talking to himself more than anyone else, "the one who thought he was a cowboy?"

"For a while I didn't know my true path. But after a day of soul searching I discovered the principles of honour and the unbreakable code of bushido. That is what the noble Spike-san would have wanted."

Faye shook her head, clearly tired of Andy's, or Musashii or whoever the hell this guy thought he was, talk already, she stomped off down the corridor, probably to shower.

Jet finally lowered his pistol and said, "You heard about Spike's death?"

"I did, it's a samurais job to keep in touch with the spirit of his kin. He had a warriors spirit, he was a real cowboy, he-"

"Yeah, sure thing Andy,"

"Musashii,"

"Yeah, Musashii, whatever. Your sympathies are heart-warming but right now we're in the middle of something," Jet said, turning to leave.

"Wait, wait a minute,"

"What," Jet turned back to him as Musashii led his horse on board the Bebop. "I thought I could help you,"

"Help us?"

"Yeah, you guys were bounty hunter right? Well so am I and I hear you're a man down. We could team up, you guys and me; a bounty hunter of honour and nobility and the bushid-"

"Shut up, _Andy_," Jet snapped, purposefully using his real name, "First of all, we don't need the help of some jumped up rich punk who can't figure himself out so he dresses up like cowboys and samurais to hide from his true self," Jet had never really met Andy (as he was back when Spike met him) before, just the once when he crashed that masquerade party. But despite all that, he'd figured him out in five seconds flat. "Second of all, our buddy may not be dead so we aren't looking for a replacement," Musashii pulled away as Jet shoved his face up close and said, through gritted teeth, "Not that we'd be replacing him anyway,"

"I am sorry, I dishonour the crew of the infamous Bebop," he said, bowing far too deeply again.

"Knock that off." Jet thought about it for a moment, Musashii -from what he remembered and had heard- was a bumbling idiot, but he did know how to fight and had made a reputation for himself as a bounty hunter. Finding spike might mean fighting the Red Dragons. Hell, it could mean fighting anyone; after all Spike had a lot of enemies from a past that Jet barely knew about.

"I will take my leave of you honourable cowboys now, before I bring more shame on my family,"

"Stop right there," Jet snapped, "I barely know you Musashii, Faye's met you before though, right,"

"We have been acquainted,"

"Well, the Bebop's a pretty big ship, its too big for just one or two people."

"You mean-"

Jet held a hand up and shaking his head, said, "We might need some extra muscle if I'm gonna find my buddy. I gotta go and check something out but…if you can get Faye to agree to it, then you can come on board until we find our partner. But, if you screw things up the way you screwed up Spikes bounty back then, you're off the ship."

"You honour me greatly," he said with that stupid bow.

"One more thing,"

"What?"

"You start gallivanting around and your gone. On this ship you do as I say, I'm the boss,"

"Yes, honourable shogun,"

Jet just shook his head apathetically as he left Musashii alone. Jet had more important things to do right now. He headed toward the hammerhead, still in the dock. Hoping Faye would know how to keep Musashii on a leash and that he hadn't just made a huge mistake. Then Jet set about going to find Old Man Bull.

The old mystic, Laughing Bull was a man Jet had never enjoyed seeing and today was no different. He spoke in riddles and his very presence felt patronizing to Jet. He might be able to get along with him if the old coot would just give a straight answer.

The acrid fumes of Peyote and musk greeted Jet's un-flattered nostrils and the sight of an old games console and heaps of junk were the trademarks of Laughing Bull's home. The old mans palm was face up, as it was every time he entered, and filled with sand flowing freely between his splayed fingers to the floor where it heaped up in a chain of four sand rings.

"Laughing Bull," Jet said, folding his arms and looking coldly at the Bull, who was sitting cross legged.

A pipe stem in his mouth and eyes shut, Bull said, "I know why you are here, Running Rock,"

"I told you before, that's not my name dammit,"

"Your wound has heeled well in this short time. A sign of strong will, solid determination and a resolute soul,"

"If you know why I'm here then quit talking about me,"

"You want to know about the Red Star to the north and the Blue Star to the east,"

"That's right," Jet said sternly, "I watched the stars that night and just as you said, the Red Star to the north fell. Every star is a persons guardian star and when that person dies so does their star; wasn't that what you said?"

"And you saw the star die with your own eyes?"

"Yeah, I watched it fade into the night like my friends life," Jet fought damn hard to keep his voice level.

Sitting Bulls lips twisted to within an inch of becoming a smile, then he said, "Then why are you here,"

"Because I get the feeling he ain't quite dead yet,"

"What makes your soul question the inevitable?"

"My soul's got nothing to do with it. This is cold hard facts; there was no body, his ship went missing from my hanger bay and on top of that my other partner says she saw him," Jet was cold now. Angry.

Bull smoked on the pipe for a brief moment and blew out a swirling torrent of grey smoke. He seemed to meditate on the evidence against his theory-because as far as Jet was concerned it was nothing more than a crazy old mans theory. At last Bull spoke, "Twisting Leaf _believes_ she saw him,"

"Twisting Leaf, huh," Jet scratched his head, "Oh, you mean Faye,"

Bull nodded, "Swimming Bird spoke of her,"

"Really? Spike talked about Faye." he shook of his intrigue and added, "Faye would recognise Spike, I trust her eyes as much as I would my own,"

"Perhaps she did see him. I only see the stars for what they are Running Rock. I have told you, when a man dies, so does his guardian star. Two stars shone brightly that night; the Red to the north and-"

"Blue to the East, yeah you told me that but-"

Bull raised a silencing hand and smoked once more, "They say when a mans soul becomes twisted and pent up by revenge, his guardian star reacts to it,"

"How?"

"When a star dies it shines with incredible light before its life is drained. When the star of this solar system dies it will destroy the first three planets in a final act of vengeance. Vengeance against the galaxy that birthed it by taking three of its celestial children,"

"What's this got to do with revenge?"

"Revenge twists the guardian star and causes it to collapse, becoming a swirling void of black so dense that no light can ever escape it. It becomes a pit of nothing but hate that will take its anger out on anything close by."

"So you're saying the star didn't die, it became a black hole?" Jet said, unfolding his arms and cupping his chin in a rough meaty palm.

Bull slowly shook his head, "The Red Star to the North died, the Blue star to the East still shines. But that night, there was a Black Hole to the west and another star. The White Star to the south died shortly before the Red."

Jet felt impatience boil in his blood, what was this crap, a galactic compass of death and vengeance and colours. He suddenly remembered why he couldn't get on with Bull for longer than five minutes. "I don't care about stars, I want to know if Spike Spiegel is dead or not. And if he's alive I want you to tell me where he is,"

"Swimming Bird is no longer here,"

"So he's dead?"

"I can tell you only what I see. I see a Twisting Leaf waiting for a breeze to take it up once more while a Crazy Horse watches it with interest,"

"Agh, this is a waste of my time,"

"Look to the place where our star shows its wrath. The place where mankind too showed its wrath, It is near to there, "

"Yeah, I'll get right on it old man," Jet said walking away with his fists balled tightly.

Faye sighed again as she watched the Bebop's old, and very slow, computer refresh its email page for the twentieth time. She took another drag on her cigarette and considered the comfort of the tobacco against its possible harm to her health, and the consequences it may have on her skin. In the end, as always, the comfort of the tobacco won out. With proper body care she could stay pretty as a picture and until she smoked the way Spike did, she wasn't in that much trouble.

"What are we waiting for?" said the self absorbed, cowboy turned samurai wannabe Andy.

"Hey just keep it quiet, I'm trying to concentrate," she snapped.

"Well, can I serve you honourable warriors of the Bebop or not,"

She snapped her head around quickly and fixed him with a cold green stare, "What do you want to tag along with us for?

"The Bebop is the most feared ship in the galaxy. Every bounty head around here knows about the Bebop,"

"Hmmm, I thought they knew about the great cowboy Andy too, or was that just a lie you spread around?"

Andy, or Musahsii as he called himself now, looked at his feet, and then to his white steed that had accompanied him into the living room. He suddenly knelt beside the yellow chair and placed a hand on his katana. Faye flinched, reaching instinctively for her pistol, Andy said, "I brought great dishonour as a cowboy, such rumours are unforgivable, that is why I am no longer Andy. If you wish it, I will take my own life as debt,"

Faye eyed him curiously and smirked, "As tempting as it is to see you mess up trying to commit hari-kari I don't feel like cleaning up any mess,"

"This is no mere joke. I will do it for honou-"

"No," she said shortly, "you don't need to kill yourself," she refreshed the email page again and said, "Fine, if its okay by Jet you can tag along." It was that, or let this bumbling idiot get himself killed som other way.

"You do me more hono-"

"Three rules!" she snapped, then raising a finger for each rule she said, "Number one; I remember last time we met, so keep your eyes to yourself. Number two; you take your own bounties. Jet and I aren't splitting our loot with you. Number three; if you say honour one more time I'm kicking you overboard when we're in deep space,"

I see, I will hon-" he stopped short and looked dumbfounded, as though there was no good replacement word.

Faye's eyebrows twitched in anger and she growled through gritted teeth, Musashii was hopeless. Then she noticed his horse standing quietly, she added, "Rule number four, keep the animal in the hanger bay and you better clean up after the damn thing,"

The moment she said that, there was a ping from the computer and words on the screen flashed in bold green lettering; Ring, Ring, Ring. Faye clicked the live feed--despite there being no live feed, the whole thing was a hack job done by a genius girl. It was said; there is a fine line between genius and insanity.

A rather androgynous looking girl lit up the entire monitor with her copper skinned face so close it blotted out any background. Her eyes glimmered with a gold that was impossibly energetic and her hair was a stark fiery red.

"HIIIIIIIIIII," she squealed in delight with a grin too big for her face. Then settling away from the monitor a little she waved her lanky arms with wild delight and burst into a fit of laughter.

"Hi Ed," Faye replied with a far less enthusiastic tone. She caught sight of Musashii scratching his head and looking (as he so often did) confused, though being confused at Ed was practically demanded.

"Edward missed Faye-Faye and the Beboppidy Bop-Boppers,"

"We missed you too Ed," Faye said with a very genuine and rare smile, "How's your dad?"

"Sadness, disappointed," Ed gave her own voice a deep base effect.

"Huh, why?"

Ed smiled wildly and began flailing her arms in some vague resemblance to comets smashing into the ground, she added sound effects too. At last, after she became tired of her own antics, or perhaps realised the novelty had worn off on Faye, she said, "The crazy comets zip-boomed too fast for us to keep up. No more mapping the Earth, horrible defeat, had to give up," her voice trailed into a ghostly waver at the end.

"That stinks," Faye said sympathetically.

"Like icky stinky gas,"

"Anyway, Ed, I need you to do us a favour." she paused and scrutinised the child's face, something was hiding in her vibrant eyes…she knew about spike, "I need you to look into the gate records for the last three days,"

"Gate records, why?" the earthling hacker had never sounded so serious.

"We think Spike might have gone through one,"

Ed's face faltered and for a moment a genuine tear welted on her lower eyelid, then she broke into her usual overexcited manner again, "Edward heard about Bebopidy-Spike. Dead, killed, murdered. Ed feels sad, upset, horrified, disappointed, abandoned. Ed will miss him very much,"

"E-" Faye tried to start.

"Red Dragon massacre," Ed suddenly said, "over twenty victims, all dead. Confirmed dead are Rin, suspected to be fighting AGAINST the evil spooky Dragons-"

Ed had obviously done her homework on this one, or maybe hacking the ISSP reports was her own little way of trying to stay close to Spike. Rin, was that the guy Jet thought had helped Spike? Faye cut Ed off, "Wait Ed. There was no body for Spike so we think he ran away,"

"Faye-faye run away-way?"

"Not this time," she began to grow impatient, "Ed, just do the hack,"

"Aaaalright!" she squealed and sat back, clapping her hands over her head while typing at an off-screen keyboard with her toes.

Musashii peered over Faye's shoulder at the impossibly happy child and wondered aloud, "Is this girl, crazy?"

"I asked myself that enough times," Faye whispered, "Most Earthlings are weird," she realised Ed was looking at her with a twitching brow and screwed up mouth.

"Faye makes Ed feel sad, thinks Ed is weird. Ed won't help if Faye is being wicked witch of mars,"

Faye jerked her head back with a loose open mouth and wide eyes, "Wait, wait, no," she waved her arms frantically but stopped when she realised how very 'Ed' she was being. Then she said, "I didn't mean you were weird, just…you didn't let me finish is all,"

Ed eyed her suspiciously and with a rather devious smile, said, "What does Faye-faye think of Edward,"

"Well," she gave a quiet titter, twirling her violet hair and said, "I was saying that most earthlings were weird, but not you Ed, you're a super special genius,"

"Yaaaay, Alright. Super special Genius Ed will get right on it," she said and went back to typing, her toes working faster than Faye thought she could with her fingers. "Gate way to the stars, show me the travellers from mars," Ed rhymed as she clapped some more.

Faye watched the monitor quietly as Ed's face suddenly screwed up and her mouth narrowed like the tube of a funnel. She tapped something with her toe two or thee more times.

"What is it Ed? you found something?"

"Ohhh, Edward can't remember access code for Bebopidy-Spike's zoom ship,"

"What," Faye slapped a hand against her forehead and gave some thought to what kind of lecture she would give the kid. Before she managed anything there was the dry yelp of a dog from over the monitor. The unmistakable yelp of a welsh corgi named Ein as it stuck its nose in front of the monitor. It yelped again -at Faye- and she replied with an impious smile. Ein whimpered at her as though offended that he had to talk to Faye. The mutt had a good memory it seemed.

"Oh," Ed said, from behind the dog, "really Ein, this one?"

"What? What does Ein say," Faye bawled trying to see around the edges of the monitor.

Ed tapped at her keyboard some more and suddenly broke into a little victory dance with a jubilant smile. Ein barked his agreement as he hopped past the monitor and around Ed.

"Ed found it!" those words had become synonymous with her. Though of course, in this case Ein had found it, at least from what Faye could tell.

"What Ed, tell me, what is it?"

Ed looked at Ein and then back at Faye, she giggled hysterically and said, "What's that Ein…I can't tell unless Faye-faye apologises for being mean,"

"What!" Faye said, throwing her hands up, "No way am I apologising to a dog!"

"Okay, but then you don't get to know where Swordy fish two went," Ed suddenly up-tilted onto her head and began clapping her feet now.

"So, that's how it is. All right, fine." she leaned in close to the monitor, with a manipulative little smile, "I'm sorry Ein," It wasn't hard to swallow your pride when you didn't mean it.

The dog barked, seemingly in approval and Ed began to flail in her victory dance, much to Faye's displeasure.

"Alright, lets see what mister gateway has for Faye-faye." Ed prodded Ein and said, "You do it Ein,"

The dog barked once and tapped a key with its paw.

Faye hadn't realised just how close she'd gotten to the monitor now, as though she might be able to climb through somehow and read the result for herself. "Come on Ed, tell me," Faye heard herself sound like an impetuous child. She'd scold herself later.

"Ahhh, wow, so that the place where Bebopidy Spike went,"

Faye heard the wind howl outside and the clank of the docking hanger opening, Jet was home.


	7. And Then There Were Two

Thanks for all the reviews guys. Its nice to know you're enjoying it and the characters are on target. Personally I felt they were both a little out (Ed doesn't count because she's supposed to be out…out in space)

Anyway, is anyone hapy to see Andy return. He was so cool I couldn't help bringing him back.

If you want to see Spike again then you'll have to wait, that is, if he's even alive still.

Enjoy chapter 6

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**Chapter 6: And Then There Were Two.**

It felt good to be spaceborn again. Finally the Bebop was back where she belonged, amongst the celestial heavens filled with the glittering white starbursts against that black ocean backdrop.

Jet stood firmly by the east observation deck, his arms folded tightly across his chest and eyes narrowed to a singular point. The only sound, aside from the unnoticeable hum of the Bebop's beautiful engines, was his stomach growling for food. It fell on deaf ears as he continued to stare hard to the east.

He didn't move when someone called his name either. Like a stone statue standing ever vigilant, it was only on the inside that he almost had a heart attack at the sudden sound of the word JET, _was that his name_? Finally, after what felt like forever, he tore himself from the stars to see the samurai wannabe, Musashii.

"What do you want?" he said, unfolding one arm toward the stars and then refolding it under his cybernetic one.

Musashii rose from his knees, his forehead had been almost touching the deck as he bowed before Jet like an ancient Samurai before his Shogun master. "I wished an audience with my masters. And honourable lady Valentine was busy. She told me to ask you about a Red Herring for her,"

Jet smirked and rested his palms against his hips. "It looks like she fooled you good,"

"Do you know where honourable lady Valentine's Red Herring is?"

"Yeah, I guess you're looking at it," Jet said, shaking his head slowly and walking past Musashii, who had bowed his head once more.

"I do not understand," he said, catching up with Jet as they headed down toward the galley.

Jet didn't answer him. His thoughts had moved to his stomach now and all he could think about was the last of those chicken wings he'd sent Musashii out for before they took off. How Faye had pleaded with him to take off and leave the fool behind. She really was cold hearted sometimes; but only sometimes.

It was a shame they couldn't pick up Ed for this. It would make things go that much quicker but she was in the wrong direction. Besides, taking a fathers daughter away wasn't on Jet Black's; 'list of things to do before I die.' Instead of the red headed lunatic they had to make do with Musashii and his horse. A poor substitute for the girl and her dog. _Actually, since when had it been her Dog? _He mused as he rummaged through the cupboards for the grill rack.

Andy chattered on in Jets ear as he finally managed to get dinner under way. Although from the looks of things, Faye had been hungry at some point and eaten half of the chicken. She really did seem more giving lately, in the good old days she'd have just hogged the lot and blamed it on someone else. Jet smirked, complemented by the fact she'd left him some food, but splitting it with sword boy meant three pieces each. Maybe Faye had been right about leaving him behind?

As Jet cleaned his plate, using his tongue to wash off the last of the barbecue sauce, it dawned on him that Musashii hadn't shut his mouth since before he started cooking.

Jet sat on that old fading yellow chair, Musashii across from him on the sofa looked so eager for answers. Like an expecting kid. It was Spike, that seemed to hold the attention of him like a tightly wound vice. He seemed to have the idea that Spike was some kind of hero who was the hope and dreams of every man and woman in the galaxy. Perhaps that was true if the Bebop could be called a galaxy. Musashii needed shutting up.

"You ever heard the story about the old expeditionary on earth," Jet asked, watching Musashii rub his two brain cells together in the hopes of starting a fire.

"No," he said at last.

_Story time with Jet, here we go again_, " When Earth was still being discovered, long before space travel," Jet began, watching Musashii as he nodded his head vigorously, "There were two men, trying to reach the tip of the world, in a kind of race. The thing was, that this place happened to be very hard to survive in, even with the proper equipment they needed to ration their food and tread carefully,"

"Why didn't they just take Zip-crafts?"

Jet slapped himself in the forehead. His mind reeling at the question, eventually he managed a long steady breath and said, "This was before Zip-crafts, Musashii." Then, as Musasgii continued that child like head nodding, Jet continued, "Each man and his team wanted to reach the south pole first so they could say they were first. They were best.. One of them was a great explorer, well both were actually, but one of them thought too much of himself."

"And he won right, because he was the best?"

"No. He died. He pressed on hard but kept getting side tracked and everything went pair shaped for him. Even after he knew it was too late, he'd surely lost the race by this point, he kept trudging on, trying to reach that magic place so he could say, at least he got there,"

"Did he make it?" Musashii said, leaning forward like he was at a drive-in theatre and Jet was the screen.

"I don't remember," Jet admitted, embarrassedly, "But I do remember he died, either trying to get there or after he got there. The point is, he didn't make it back home,"

"Oh, I get it," Musashii said with a knowing grin on his face, "Spike never got home either, like the hero…right,"

Jet clenched his fists, he really did need to spell it out for this jackass, "Wrong. Spike was the guy who made it. Spike made it back home. You're the guy who died,"

"Huh, me. But why do I die,"

"Because you're following in Spike's footsteps. Your pursuing him, trying to be like him and all you do is look up to him because he was a better cowboy than you,"

"It is a great honour to have duelled wi-"

"Shut up a minute." Jet snapped, raising a hand, "If you keep trying to be like the guy whose better than you, you'll end up stuck in one place and never getting anywhere," He paused and waved a hand at him, "Take a look at me. Spike was my buddy and comrade, but I never tried to fight him, I never even wanted to learn how to fight like him. Just like he never asked how to fly or fix the Bebop. Musashii, figure your self out. Quit copying people who beat you. Quit saying; at least if I can get there,"

They locked eyes for a moment, the shaken Musashii looked as though Jet had just belted him around the face with the aft end of the Bebop. The only sound between them was the uncomfortable creak of the leather furniture.

Musashii opened his mouth to say something, but the sound never arrived. Instead there was a deafening flood of the Bebop's emergency sirens and arcs of red emergency lights passing across the bulkheads. Then, all at once the Bebop's emergency channels opened to a flood of static and the whine of frequency tuning.

"Planet Hopper Bebop," someone started in a gruff voice.

"Who the hell is that?" Jet growled, standing to attention and sliding his hand down to the Walther P99 pistol on his waist.

The reply -but not answer- came less than a second later as the voice continued, "Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. We have reason to believe you are harbouring a fugitive,"

Jet grabbed a portable transmitter from the coffee table and flipped to the open channel, "Who is this?" he demanded, hurrying toward the observation deck.

"That's not your concern, I have no quarrel with you Jet Black. Just the fugitive on board your ship,"

Jet couldn't believe it, someone just turning up out of the black like this and accusing him of aiding criminals. Who in the hell had ever been a criminal on board his ship…oh wait, everyone except him. They must be after Musashii, neither Faye or himself had any problems with the law lately. Whatever that idiot Musashii had done was going to buy him a one way ticket into custody.

Jet arced back to see Musashii's shocked pulled-back eyes and flushed cheeks. Jet growled, "What did you do?"

The answer came from the transmitter, "Jet, you better cut those engines quick if you don't want this to get ugly,"

Wait, that voice. Jet clicked the communicator on again, "Fatty, is that you?"

"Lucky guess, Jet. Now I want that bounty head you're stowing and I don't like to ask twice."

"You got it all wrong Fats, I had no idea he was-"

A door at the other end of the observation deck cycled open and Faye Valentine stepped through. Her Glock thirty was in one hand and a cigarette smoked almost to the butt was in the other. She wore those dark sunglasses she wore on the rare occasion she forayed into gambling on card games.

"Jet!" she said, pounding across the decking toward him. "You gotta find Spike,"

"What?" Jet Black couldn't remember the last time he was this confused.

"Hey," Fats was talking now, "I know you're sweet on her Jet but little miss Valentine's worth a cool fifty mil,"

_What, he was here for Faye. Since when was she tagged at fifty mil? _"Fats, what the hell are you talking about?" Jet wasn't really asking fatty, he just wanted an answer, any answer.

Faye was by the opposite door now, ready to go into the docking hanger. She yelled, "Jet get the docking bay open. I'll take Red-Tail and get outta here. You and And-Musas-whatever the hell your name is, gotta find Spike,"

"Wait, Faye, Why do you have a bounty on you,"

She smiled at Jet, like he was a kid with no idea how the world worked and that the answer should be obvious. When she told him, "It's the collection agency, they want their money again," it _was_ obvious, obvious enough to make Jet feel stupider than a share holder for Ganymede rock farming.

"Shit, alright Faye." he shouted as she disappeared and he instinctively went for the bridge. He clicked the transmitter over to Faye's frequency and clipped it onto his belt.

"Come on Jet, hurry up," she crackled over the communicator as the sound of Red-Tails life cap hissed shut in the background.

Jet slammed his palm on the docking override control, no time to even out the pressure, "Sorry about that Faye," Jet said as he watched Red-Tail tumble clumsily out into the open void, through the window panels.

"Yeah, thanks for the warning Jet," she snapped back.

Faye's zip craft rolled around before righting itself and taking off past the fat blocky ship that her pursuer was in charge of. Jet watched as she spun one eighty and gave fatty some missile meringue pie for desert. Then like a twinkling red star to the north, she disappeared. A fraction of a moment later, Jet and Fatty exchanged a series of expletives and then Fatty was on his way, chasing fifty million woolongs of emerald eyes, yellow cloth and violet hair.

When things finally quietened down -and by quieten down that meant Jets heart had stopped trying to crack through his rib cage, jump into hammerhead and take off after Faye- Jet slumped back at the Bebop's controls. It was up to Musashii and Jet to find Spike now, though Faye Valentine wasn't about to hand herself over. She could handle herself and she damn well knew where Spike was. That emerald glint in her eyes when Ed told them had lit up the entire ship.

It was only minutes after the fact, as they came up on the hyperspace gate that Jet realised how much he reeked of sweat. His forehead and overalls were soaked from the brief incident and now he felt the strong urge to take a shower. Unfortunately that would mean leaving Musashii alone to explore the ship. Maybe later, maybe when they were safely at the other end of the solar system, on the wrong side of the Jovian system, then maybe he could take a shower.

Some people didn't appreciate the beauty of nature. Some people liked to say calling _this,_ nature was a lie because men had made it. But it took Jet Black's breath away every time he saw that hyperspace gateway open. That big gold ring with all those flashing lights and the little control centre hovering close by, processing all the receipts and making critical judgments about who might be a danger to other gate users.

And that was just on the approach. Jet's blood flushed to the surface of his usually pallid skin as he watched his transaction go through and the green light blink on. Then there was that beautiful starburst of ice white and ocean blue that rip roared its way into his plane of reality. Hyperspace occurred naturally, just like real space, so to call it man made was a crock of shit. Anyone who denied beauty because a scientist developed something to show it was an idiot. After all, were the stars not a natural thing of beauty because they were viewed through a star-ships view port. Jet suddenly realised he was staring east again.

A few minutes later and the Bebop was through the event horizon. The Eastern region of space was gone and Jet found the multi-spectral streaks of hyperspace were tearing past his vision. He breathed out heavily, only now realising he'd held it in throughout the entire translation process.

Musashii was behind him, by the charter dais that, back in the old day, was used to display the water charts and hot spots for fishing. Now it was just a glorified shogi board.

"So, it looks like we're gonna find master Spike-san soon,"

"Shut up, Musashii,"

"Humblest apologies master J-"

"_Andy_!" Jet bolted around and locked eyes with him, "If you don't cut it out with that samurai talk then I'm gonna stick those swords some place real uncomfortable,"

Musashii gulped, covering his katana and wakazashi scabbards, bowed and said, "Sorry, but we are gonna find Spike, right?"

"That's the plan," Jet said, turning back to hyperspace outside, "Listen up Musashii, you're here to help and that's it. If Ed or Ein had been able to come along you'd have been off this ship in a heartbeat."

"I understand, it is difficult to welcome outs-"

"I ain't finished yet. Like I was saying, its just you and me now. I never thought I'd say this but I'd give anything for Faye to be here right now. You're a poor substitute but you'll have to do,"

"I will do my best to uphold the Bebop's honour,"

"If that's what you want to do then you best do everything I tell you. From what I remember of your cowboy days you couldn't go to a masquerade party without stuff blowing up. In fact I remember it very well,"

Musashii got the message pretty quick after that. It was obvious in his hurt eyes and the bobbing of his Adams apple. He understood well enough though. He wasn't a Bebopper. There had only ever been five Beboppers and there was no room for more in that special little family.

Jet felt his guts fall into his feet. What if something happened to Faye, or what if Spike wasn't even alive; that was still a possibility. Ed and Ein were gone and after this, maybe Jet would be back to the solo act he'd once been. The solo act he'd always threatened to go back to in the old days. Threatening to zip the others up in their sleeping bags and eject them into space. Maybe if they'd just taken care of things a little better and maybe thanked him once in a while for fixing up their ships. Hell, it took the death of a would-be lover for Faye Valentine to say thank you or sorry. _A would-be lover, did faye really feel that strongly about Spike__…__nah, no way,_

_Well_, Jet thought as he came back to himself, _it won't matter too much longer_. Soon he'd now how it was going to be in his future. But thinking about it, dammit he didn't want that solo act, he wanted the old days back. Fixing the ships and putting up with Eds insanity was a piece of cake compared to going to bed in a silent ship everyday. What had Faye once told him…_Human beings are pack animals, they need companionship to survive_. She'd always said she didn't need it, Spike was the same--though he never said it. They were both damn liars. Jet Black was no liar, he needed companionship, he needed comrades as much as they did him.

Fate would soon decide how it would be. When they reached Hyperion.


	8. Cosmic Dare

**Chapter 7: Cosmic Dare **

That big blocky T shaped ship came up on Faye's instruments again like a brick falling from a tenth story window. She cast a glace back over her shoulder, toward the man pursuing her, Jet had called him Fatty. One thing was for certain, Fatty wasn't slow and he sure as hell wasn't incompetent.

Chance, like a game of roulette or a day at the race track was the only thing that Faye could rely on now. She armed the missile pods on Red-Tail and loop-de-looped, if that was even possible in space, cutting up high over the T craft and reversing thrust in line with Fatty's aft engines. There was a moment of artificial gravity that smashed her head into the life cap, but the pain subsided.

Fatty had shrugged off that rocket pie she'd fed him earlier. Time for the main coarse. Missile back ribs with machine gun seasoning. Faye let fly with a wicked grin and poured everything at Fatties engines.

"Faye Valentine, I'm here for the bounty on your head," was the only reply she got.

Not even a scratch on Fat boys ship. _Dammit_, he ate up punishment the way he did pudding.

Faye doubled back and undercut Fatties ship, back rolling so she came face to face with the base of that big T ship. The underbelly had to be a weak spot. Her last five missiles gave Fatty all he could eat at this buffet. Nothing.

It looked like that was it. If her missiles couldn't do the job then machine guns weren't even worth the effort. If she couldn't get out of this with brute force, she'd do the honourable thing. Run away. Under other circumstances she'd have tricked Fatty with her womanly charm, but that would take too long in this case. Spike was out there somewhere and she had to see him again. That perfectly formed body and proportioned legs, his strong chin and his head that was in absolutely no way too small for his shoulders. Then there was that neatly kept emerald hair. Emerald like her eyes, because he was hers.

The gunfire of Fatties ship brought her back to reality as low cal slugs raked across one of red Tails shoulders. She shifted into reverse and back rolled away from the T. One eighty and drive. She checked the instruments; great Fatty was on her tail already. Looked like this needed a little more oomph behind it.

If Spike Spiegel had ever taught Faye one thing, it was this. Whatever happens, happens. Concentration means nothing when flying a ship. He'd never said it, but she'd seen it in his face when the swordfish weaved through gun fire and around asteroids. That and his transmitter. He always listened to that YK stuff whenever he was flying. _Time to take notes little miss Valentine._

She slammed on the transmitter and cycled through the frequencies. Found YK and the boys. Their music hit the nail on the head, the cosmos were pretty daring right now and Faye Valentine sure as hell looked pretty with a pistol.

The big T came in at her as Faye cut the drive and rolled sideways, letting Fatty go right by her. That thing had a good turning circle as it arced around faster than Faye could slam the drive back on. She barrelled away from machine gun fire and arced around to Fatties port side.

_Anything goes, so take care. _That went without saying.

While Fatty was performing a two second, one eighty turn, Faye flipped the Red-Tail upside down (if there was an upside down in space). Inertia jerked her toward the top of the life cap but soon there was no gravity again. Faye gunned the engine, weaving left and right as streaks of machine gun fire sailed past her like angered hornets.

The hypergate wasn't far. If she could make her transaction in a few seconds flat then there might just be time to cat-and-mouse Fatty, then cut through the event horizon as it closed behind her. _That was it_, Faye decided. She pushed the Red-Tail to its limit, the instruments began to buck and quake without forgiveness. This kind of stuff brought back memories. The first days travelling with Spike and Jet: happier times.

Strafing the gunfire, Faye saw it. The hypergate, larger than life. All she needed was a few seconds. Her eyes widened in delight and her mouth fell half open into a rapturous smile. Her nose suddenly felt cold as she realised it was pressed against the glass of the life cap. So close. Then, it all went wrong.

Fatty strafed her with machine gun fire and slaughtered the right shoulder of the Red-Tail. Alarm klaxons rang out inside the life cap and emergency lights blinked ten to the dozen. Fate knew the damage had to be bad, that many lights and sirens couldn't possibly be good.

_Living to love you, will you be my man_. Spike!

Heavily, she banged her fist on the instruments and tried to fire the thrusters. Unfortunately, the one on the right shoulder had been severed and she only the left thrusters sparked the dark sky with its flaming blue streak. The Red-Tail began to spin wildly out of control as Faye yelped in surprise, inertia smashing her around the life cap like a sack of water.

Eventually she managed to cut the drive, but the Red-Tail just continued to spin where it was. Wavering and bobbing helplessly as Faye could do nothing but get vomit inducing dizziness. She was screwed, there was no way out of this. Fatty had her dead to rights.

_If I beg, if I plead_. That was about all she could do now.

_Would you please, please, please satisfy me_. Fatty was the only one who could do that, no one else was there to save her.

It was time to give up, she dizzily managed to reverse the thrust and slow down her rotating Red-Tail until the point where every ten seconds or so, she'd circle around to see Fatties big T drifting closer to her.

She flipped open the communication channel, "Uh, you got me," she said with a belied smile and holding her hands above her head.

"It was a good chase little lady," came Fatties reply, accompanied by a boisterous belly laugh. "You should be proud you lasted so long,"

"Yeah, thanks," she couldn't hide the sarcasm this time.

The next thing Faye Valentine knew a circular port at the centre of the vertical T bar was cycling open and threatening to swallow her and the Red-Tail as she span. Watching it get closer the dark maw of Fatties hanger mocked her. _Dammit_, she should have stayed on the Bebop, Jet always knew how to get out of these situations.

At last the long wait was over as Faye had to endure the sight of the port archway passing over the Red-Tail and then ceiling behind her. Sealing her in darkness.

Red-Tail slowly rotated a while longer as the low gravity seeped in and caused her ship to settle with a subtle bump onto the decking. Then with a screech of metal on metal, she stopped turning. Before escaping, there was one very important thing Faye needed to do. She popped the seal on her life cap and kicked open the door. Then, heaved her guts out all over Fatty's deck.

Still feeling queasy, despite having sicked up everything she could, Faye exited Red-Tail--through the other door of course. She reached around the back of her hot pants and pulled the lifesaving Glock thirty out of the waist band. Creeping forward, pistol firm in both hands, she formulated her plan.

Step one: find out where Fatty was.

Step two: seduce Fatty and knock him out.

Step three: Handcuff him in a storage space and steal his ship.

Step four: On the off chance he bats for the other team -because as far as Faye was concerned that was the only reason she'd be incapable of seducing him- distract him with a bagel and then knock him out.

She reached the inner lock of the docking hanger and cocked the slide on her pistol. Pressed the control lever. Nothing. _What the hell_, she thought, bashing the lever up and down violently.

"Please don't tear my ship apart," Fatty's voice boomed over a loud speaker.

"What, how the hell…" Faye looked about madly, and saw the camera on the wall above the outer lock. "Son of a bitch," she said and kicked the inner lock. Pain jolted back through her body, twisting her ankle to a funny angle and causing her to instinctively clutch at it with childish yelps of pain.

"Now that we've established I'm not as stupid as I am fat…miss Valentine, could you please eject the magazine from your pistol and hold it in your left hand,"

Faye did as told, cursing herself for being so short sighted. But cursing fatty even more for getting her. She showed it to the camera and said, "All done," with hatred seeping between gritted teeth.

"Good. Now toss the pieces in opposite directions,"

She did that too. Listening to her favourite weapon clatter uselessly like lead weight at opposite ends of the dock. She smiled, quickly making another plan and held her hands above her head, "Okay come and get me,"

"Just a moment," Fatty's voice was edged with menace.

Faye stepped back, feeling that feeling she felt when a dealer at a poker table was looking at her funny. She drew in a sharp breath and looked for a way out…the air vents. They were probably big enough for her to squeeze through. But it didn't matter.

Before Faye could even move toward the vents, something clicked above her in the ceiling. Then a snake hissed at her, mocking her wildly. The snakes head was actually a hosepipe nozzle, embedded just above the inner lock and its venom was a viscous green gas.

Faye cupped both hands tightly over her mouth and nose, sealing her airways as tight as she could. The noxious fumes clouded over her vision and filled the entire room in seconds. Vision blurring in a green haze of smog, Faye felt her arms go limp and slop to her sides. She felt giddy, chuckling to herself. Memories of golden butterflies and the acrid stench of death sluiced through her mind like wading through deep mud.

She managed three short steps toward the inner lock. Choking, she banged weakly on the door and coughed out a heavy wheezing breath.

Then she collapsed onto her face.

* * *

Well, that's it for chapter seven and the first real action scene (where would Bebop be without some good old random violence).

I did what I could here to keep the musical spirit of Bebop's action sequences alive but without the actual imagery or music, its kind of less effective and damn difficult to incorporate.

Anyway, things aren't looking too good for Faye (situation normal), wonder who's going to save her from Fatty.


	9. Life Is A Lemon

Alright, I think I've let you guys stew in chapter seven long enough. Is Faye dead or just sleeping (wouldn't be the first time) and what about Jet, can he find Spike or is he following that elusive Red Herring that makes a mockery of us all at one time or another.

And a quick thanks to all you guys who have reviewed and those who've added this to their favourite story list. Glad its keeping you entertained.

Anyway. Are you sitting comfortably…then we'll begin.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 8: Life Is A Lemon **

There was nothing on Hyperion. Nothing besides the Rio Grande opera house at least. Hyperion was a satellite far too small for any major cities to be built up on, hell Tharsis (the whole bulge not just the city) was probably about the same size as this weedy little dustbowl. So the Martian government decided to build the biggest opera house in history. Although, it worked for just about any concert or event not just opera.

Jet looked up from the minuscule water dock where the Bebop -barely fitting in- floated lazily. The opera house was impressive to say the least. Those enormous three main doors and the high arched stain glass windows decorated with a myriad of holy figures. Breathtaking. Gothic spire towers on the corners reached up toward Saturn, back dropping all of Hyperion with its immensity and radiant rings.

The small villages houses around it looked like a peasants hovel from near ancient days, outdoor markets and stalls with street vendors pushing their merchandise on tourists. They weren't poor though, there just wasn't enough room on Hyperion for bigger housing so they were stuck, crammed up as dedicated families tending to the opera house and selling merchandise.

Musashii was following like a dog, not like Ein, Musashii was like some stupid lost three legged dog, stumbling along in Jets wake. It was hard to believe this guy had managed to give Spike a run for his money.

Jet sauntered through the waves of people, Hyperion sure was crowded today, he'd only been once before and it had been like walking through a cemetery. What the hell was going on, maybe Spike was here kicking up some kind of fuss. Hell, Spike could have been up to just about anything, being the way he was.

Finding himself on the receiving end of a few polite waves, Jet disinterestedly eyed the merchandise on the stalls. They were sure selling some crap, from tee-shirts to dashboard bobble heads. Noticing Muisashii take far too much interest, Jet collared him and dragged him onward with a growl.

They reached the precinct house pretty quickly. Although it wasn't really fair to class the Police Department: Hyperion precinct house anything as grandiose as a precinct house, or even just a regular station. The words precinct house painted on the side like some immature kids joke trying to be ironic about the space dirt on a white truck made the Hyperion police look all the more abysmal. Jet already doubted theses theatre monkeys could help with anything. Their entire operation was after all a box with a door and two or three zip-crafts.

Jet banged on the door and stepped in, quietly eying up the surroundings of a front desk, computer terminals and one underused rusting jail cell. He stepped up to the front desk and smiled down at the forty-something woman sat behind the desk. Her blonde hair was kept as straight as her face and tied up in a bun around the back.

"Need some help sir?" she said, sounding friendly but at the same time as though she really didnn't want to see Jet.

"Uh, well…" he really hadn't thought about what he was going to say, "uh…"

"Sir, if someone stole your tickets you'll have to make a formal compliant-"

"Oh, no, no, no," Jet said waving his hands in the air, stopped when he realised how idiotic he looked, "No, its not that its-"

Musashii cut in then, stepping in front of Jet and bowing politely at the police woman. She seemed far more willing to speak to him than Jet.

"Honourable police lady," Jet felt like wringing Musashii's neck, shame they were right in the middle of the police station, "My friend and I are looking for a person, a certain person who may have come here recently,"

She smirked now, looking at Jet more warmly than before, "You boys are bounty hunters?"

"Yes ma'am," Jet said, leaning against the back wall, hands laced behind his head.

"Thank god. I am so sick of tourists coming in here all day, giving me nothing but crap about how they had their tickets stolen or someone tried to mug them. I swear if I-" she cut off, realising she was blabbering, "Oh, I'm sorry. Now how can I help you boys?"

"We are looking for a great warrior, his name is Spike Spiegel. We think he may have arrived any time in the last three days,"

She thought for a moment, looking at Musashii with womanly interest. Jet couldn't believe it, Musashii was a kid compared to this woman. Besides what did that dim-wit have that he didn't…besides a gallon of extra air in his head of course.

At last she said, "I can't say anything for sure, but the opera house has been taking on a bunch of new workers lately. Ever since this concerts been announced,"

She pointed with the tip of her pen at the poster on the office wall. Jet followed her lead and glanced the brightly coloured poster boasting YK's concert, being held right here on Hyperion. Jet's heart skipped a few beats, dammit, he'd forgotten all about this after getting shot in the leg and losing half his crew. Then of course when Spike ran off he forgot all about the concert he'd bought four tickets too. That had been about a month ago. Why, did he always feel like his money went on star ship parts or straight down the pan.

So, that was why Spike was here. Jet cut back in again, "Is there anywhere misfits hang out?" he asked, "If you have any misfits on Hyperion that is?"

"Christ, what satellite doesn't," she said and then jerked her head toward the direction of the opera house. "Go through the opera house and out back there's a casino. It ain't the biggest in the world but that's were most information changes hand. There and down at the Colorado bar on thirty second and Elm." she smiled at Musashii one last time, "If anyone can give you a better hint, you'll find 'em there,"

Gambling or drinking. Spike preferred a good bet -just like Faye- than a piss up. But, if he was trying to drink away his sorrows, he might have been in the Colorado right then. Jet thought for a long while, then decided the best place to look for Spike was where the most action would be.

He wasn't too far off either.

They decided to check out the casino first. Jet had never seen a casino short of a bar so it was the better choice, Spike was the kind of lazy son of a bitch who killed two birds with one half arsed throw of a stone, rather than taking both out individually, the proper way, Jets way.

The opera house was busy with dark green jumpsuit maintenance jockeys setting out steel folding chairs, padded with synthetic materials, and all the other crap that came with a concert on this scale. Jet paid them now mind and dragged along the gawking Musashii as they came out the back and into a casino called the 'Lucky Woolong'. Form the looks of the out-of-pocket gamblers, the name was a lie.

Jet suddenly wondered how Faye's luck was holding her up.

The place was dark and dingy like an old time saloon casino, with cheap fifty Woolong hookers leaning over tables in tightly stretched bodices. The transsexual one in the corner brought back bad memories of Calisto. Bad memories of Spike running off and then just expecting to be let back on board again, while he had to track down the bounty head, rescue Faye and tow the Red-Tail away from that icy hell hole. Suddenly Jet remembered why a solo act could be appealing.

Jet moved over to one of the roulette tables where a croupier in the jeans and tee-shirt uniform that seemed to be the norm in the 'Lucky Woolong' waited with a big smile.

"Care to bet?"

"No chips,"

"Ah, ya must be an off worlder, in da lucky woolong, we don't waste time wiv chips. Just dump yer money on da number ya want,"

Jet took out a hundred woolong note and tossed it on red twenty eight. Gave the croupier a nod and after all bets were in, he span the wheel. Jet wasn't really watching the silver ball as it bounced around on the segmented dish, instead he was inspecting his fellow gamblers. None of them were Spike that was for sure. Jet picked out the one of them who looked like the most in-the-know kind of guy. He happened to be the only one who wasn't dressed like a tramp also.

"Hey, you," Jet said.

The gentleman pointed at himself, eyes hidden by thick sunglasses. "Me?"

"Yeah, you live on Hyperion?"

"Yes sir, Reggie Kinsman I'm an usher in the opera house,"

"Seen any new faces," Jet said, casting his eyes back at the roulette wheel in time to see it stop on black twenty seven. Dammit, one away.

"Plenty sir," the man said, growling quietly at his losses, "tourists are coming in all the way from Earth to see YK," he stepped forward and shook Jets hand in a firm grip, "is there someone you're looking for," he tried not to smirk as he said, "a wife perhaps,"

Jet didn't like that kind of ridicule, especially form a guy acting as polite as Reggie had acted, "No, a friend of mine actually,"

"Oh, well, I'm not surprised,"

_You'll be surprised when is shove my fist down your throat, bastard_. Instead he said, "Maybe you can help me," Jet slipped a fifty woolong coin from his pocket and pressed it into Reggie's palm, "the guy I'm looking for?"

"What's he look like?"

"A sore thumb," Jet said, Musashii made a confused sound from behind him, "He's all legs, real tall like a circus freak or something, few inches shorter than me,"

"Ah, so you're from the circus,"

_You'll be able to find work in the circus when I shove you're head up our arse_, _fucker_. Jet was getting tired now, skin itching with hard-work sweat, the way human beings were meant to sweat and toil. Still, his eyes ached like they hadn't shut since the day Spike left. Suppressing the insult he instead said, "No. the guy's just a little funny looking, he's got a kind of-" Jet tried to explain by passing his palm up over the tip of his nose, "Kinda upturned nose at the end," then splashing his hands around his bald head, "and messy green hair, dark green,"

"Green hair? You sure he ain't a circus freak,"

"Yeah, pretty damn sure," Jet growled, stepping toward Reggie, "And his eyes are different colours, kind of dark brown and brownish- red. Oh, and one more thing, his head's way too small for his shoulders,"

Reggie looked for a moment as though he was about to say something useful, "Nah, can't remember," was what he actually said. "But…if I see anyone like that I'll let you know, for another fifty woolongs of course,"

"Yeah, thanks a lot buddy," Jet said feeling like he'd just been screwed. Maybe the Colorado would hold something more promising.


	10. Why Isn't That Enough

**Chapter 9: Why Isn't That Enough**

Faye's eyes rolled open to a less than pleasant sight. A large dining table laden with; chocolate cakes, cheese cakes, ginger cakes, éclairs, ice creams, gateaux, biscuits, cookies, pies, trifles, tarts and more. Some sweets she didn't even think she'd ever seen before. They smelled good, looked like heaven made from pastry and sugar, but before she got the pleasure of seeing all those deserts, she got the pain of seeing what they did to a person.

Fatty's name wasn't big enough for him. The guy was literally like a ball of pudge with stubby little arms and legs and a chin like a roller coaster. A derailed roller coaster. His hair was a close cropped stubble of blonde and a pair of narrow rimmed sunglasses perched on his bulbous nose. His clothes were no more than black denim dungarees revealing serpent tattoos in green and red. Faye tasted the gas from the dock again despite the lack of a hissing nozzle.

Her wrists chaffed from the handcuffs that had been snapped on too tightly and she found herself unable to move as fatty had cuffed her to the chair she sat in. The dining room was a lot more than what passed for an eating space on the Bebop. Larger, with a big round table, an adjoining kitchen packed out with cake boxes.

Faye watched in horror as Fatty began to eat. Like watching some disturbing slaughter in an abattoir of jam and sponge. Watching a person abuse their body like that was disgusting. Morbid even. It made her want a smoke it was so nerve wracking. He slowed down only after going through a full chocolate fudge cake and half a jam sponge. His eyes widened, jam smeared up his cheeks--he wiped them clean. He'd obviously seen the half disgusted, half bewildered look on Faye's face.

"Oh, you hungry?" he said, "I guess I can spare a piece of this cheese cake," he said, jamming his flabby paws into it and shovelling a handful into his mouth.

"Uh, no," she smiled, trying to hide the mountain of anxiety inside her, "I ate before you caught me,"

"Hah, funny, I ate before I caught you too," he said, shovelling the rest of the cake into his face, "Don't the chase make you hungry?"

Faye slumped back, wriggling her wrists in the tight shackles, "I'm guessing everything makes you hungry,"

Fatty moved onto another cake -one that Faye didn't recognise- and began eating it like an animal. Said, "You know, I'm gonna make a whole lotta money out of you,"

"Enough for lessons on table manners?" Faye cast her head back and looked for the closest exit; a steel door with a valve wheel handle at the centre.

Fatty eyed her over his sunglasses, "Just because I caught you little miss, you don't need to be so rude,"

Fay scoffed, standing up and realising the chair Fatty had cuffed her to was nailed down, "Damn,"

"Like I said, I'm not as stupid as I am fat." he said, without stopping his feast.

"Christ, why don't you just stick it in a trough and eat like a pig,"

Fatty smirked at her now, the winners look in his eyes that Faye usually saw in some hot-shots after leaving the race track. After a brief pause he said, "I win, you're insults won't change that. They just bounce right back at you,"

"Huh, like everything else thrown at you I guess," Faye sat back down and watched Fatty eat in silence but for the gurgling scoffing sound of him shoving more food in his face than he could handle, at last, curiosity got the better of her. "So, where are you taking me?"

"The Jovian system," he said between hefty gurgling bites.

Faye felt a confusion-brick smash her over the back of the head. "Jupiter? What the hell are you taking me out there for?" she didn't need to hide the smile she should have had, because she was too confused to remember that going to the Jovian system was taking her straight on course to Hyperion. Still, she had to escape as soon as possible.

"That's the rendezvous point," Fatty said. For the first time he picked up a fork and stuck it into the top of a lemon cake. Then, sliding it across the table, he walked around to Faye and un-cuffed one of her hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Being a good host, Miss Valentine," he said, handing her the fork, "You're all skin and bones little lady, eat up,"

She did eat it, all of it and quickly too. Lemon cake wasn't Faye's favourite but Fatty seemed to have an ample supply of food on board, a hell of a lot more than ever seemed to be on the Bebop, so it was in her best interest to eat what she could before the long trip to Hyperion.

"So," she said through a mouthful of lemon cake, "Why are COD rendezvousing near Jupiter,"

"COD?" Fatty said, his mouth crammed out with banoffee pie.

"The collection agency, right. They had thirty million on me last I heard," she looked away at that, out of the view port and into the stars, longing for the days when she was handcuffed in a bathroom. Not the most comfortable day in her life, but at least the lunkheads who had her back then were a little more bearable than this one.

"Bounty I got for you's direct from ISSP. Fifty million,"

Faye recoiled, still eating a slice of cake but heavily confused, "I…S…S…P?" she said the letters as though she were a toddler learning the alphabet. _Why would ISSP want her_? She hadn't committed any crimes, at least none they could know about. "Did they list my charges?"

"Nope," Fatty said, still eating.

The collection agency she could outsmart, but ISSP wouldn't take any of her crap. She had to step up the plan, "Well, Fatty," she said, putting on her most luscious voice, "I guess a big boy like you has a real big bed," she fluttered her eye lashes and leaned her chin into a palm, purposefully accentuating her breasts at Fatty and letting those jade eyes shine wantonly.

He ate another handful of ginger and chocolate sponge, without looking up he casually said, "Yeah I guess its pretty big,"

She wasn't sure if he was suppressing his desire or just hadn't picked up on the hint. She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes again, clearing her throat, "Big enough for two?"

"Nah, just me. But I guess two skinny girls about your size could fit in,"

"Oh, come on Fatty, I haven't had any in days. I need you to satisfy me," If he didn't get that one then Fatty was either the biggest retard in the galaxy, or he batted for the other team. Either way it would 'put a spanner in the works' as Jet sometimes said.

As it happened he did look up with interest. And no doubt what he saw was a hot-flushed Faye feeling dirty as pig swill.

"Meh, I ain't gonna let you off that easy," he said, still stuffing his face.

"What?" Faye's choler rose. Her mind reeled with intense thoughts: How dare this fat son of a bitch say that. He should be lucky to have her even tease him, absolutely no way in hell had this guy ever had any girl as good looking as she was and he just blows her off, just like that. Just like she was some kind of old hag; no seventy four year old in the galaxy looked as good as Faye Valentine!

"I ain't interested sweetheart. Got all the sweets I need right here," he smiled at the spoon full of jelly and ice cream, almost lovingly like it was a treasured bride of decades.

"You aren't interested?" Faye looked down at her feet; her white boots were scuffed pretty bad now.

"Aww, don't pout little lady," It was hard not too, "I stopped needing women after I fell in love with food. it's the same with most people these days, they're in love with something else…and when your in love with something you got blinkers on to everything else." he paused and then added, "That's why an adulterous spouse doesn't really love their partner," his fist suddenly clenched around his ice cream dish, his knuckles whitening until a crack creased the porcelain.

Faye looked back at her feet, formulating her next plan of escape. _Dammit_ Fatty was a weird one. She looked at him, putting on her best sad face, big eyed and quivering lips. The kind of face she always used to get Spike and Jet to do what she wanted. Men were so stupid when it came to a damsel in distress.

With a hidden smile, Faye asked if Fatty would let her have a shower. After all, she didn't want to be turned over to the ISSP smelling like a swine.

* * *

Things were really starting to annoy Jet now. Not only was Spike nowhere to be found but the people on Hyperion were about as helpful as one legged dogs.

It was only when Reggie Kinsman pointed out -at the cost of two hundred woolongs- that there were a lot of new workers in the opera house basements and maintenance tunnels. Apparently there was always a surge before the big events; and YK was a _big_ event

Musashii had to convince the police woman at the precinct desk to give them permission to enter the maintenance tunnels. When Jet tried she didn't seem quite as interested but Musashii seemed to have some kind of hold on her. That made Jet angry: blood boiling, can't believe what the worlds coming to kind of angry.

In the lead again, Jet clanked his heavy steel boots down the hallway of maintenance tunnel, B seventy four. The grimy grey walls, stained with years of oil and god only knew what else were like some man made cave that buzzed with electrical danger from the overhead swollen bellies of dangling cable.

The occasional worker passed them by with a curious look, all wearing dark dusty green overalls and looking as though they weren't quite fulfilled in their jobs. His every effort spent on looking at the maintenance guys, Jet had to constantly remind himself of his ISSP days. _Look but don__'__t look, you aren__'__t here to get folk suspicious._

They rounded a corner and stepped through a doorway into a small generator room that joined onto another maintenance tunnel, looking pretty similar to B seventy four. The sound of Musashii's sandals, sliding along the floor like he was constantly rubbing his hands together, started to dig into Jets mind. The acoustics down here where enough to make even a pin drop echo like a thunderbolt. Jet bit his tongue for the moment suppressing he urge to kill.

After trudging on through at least half a dozen more identical maintenance tunnels and passing through a boiler room, the two of them turned onto maintenance tunnel sixty three C. Like the others it wasn't much to look at but unlike the past eight tunnels there was someone in this one. A man in dark green overalls with a toolbox at his feet and a long handled sweeping brush in his hands with a peaked hat covering his head.

Jet closed in, Musashii only a step or two behind as he thudded in the echoing tunnel toward the man in green overalls, like a predator stalking its prey on the open planes. The sound of Jets heart smacking into his ribs would have been enough to warn the guy they were on the approach, never mind the claps of thunder those heavy boots were making in the near silent tunnel. Musashii's scuffling, skittering sandals provided a constant backdrop: the canvass on which jets musical score of bass drum boot beats were painted onto. He could see the maintenance man ever so subtly sweeping the high edge of the tunnel wall in rhythm, and his fingers twitched in sync.

As he got close enough Jet started to pick out the details of the potential Spike. The guy was pretty thick in the body with arms spindly by comparison. His legs were far too long for him and made up most of his six foot plus height. His shoulders were far too wide for his head and a big nose that hooked up a little at the tip like someone had given him a serious uppercut, gave his face character. It looked as though his hair had been cut at least short enough to fit under the yellow maintenance cap he wore but so far; Jet Black thought -no, more than that- he _knew_ he was looking at Spike Spiegel.

"Spike Spiegel," Jet said ominously, letting his deep voice bounce loudly around the tunnel.

And then, Spike made his first mistake. He didn't answer, as though that would convince Jet it wasn't him, but the Black Dog had bitten and when that happened it took a lot to unclamp those jaws. On top of that was the fact that only someone as lazy as Spike wouldn't answer. Even Faye would be quick enough to toss out a casual; _Who__'__s Spike Spiegel? _kind of answer.

Jet said, "Give it up Spike, I know its you,"

The maintenance man still said nothing. His sweeping didn't slow down, although it had been slow to start, the kind of slowness seen in an injured man. Jet pressed him again, "Why'd you leave?"

The maintenance man reached into his pocket, slowly, with the feel of a dark suited man reaching inside his trench coat. Jet felt his fists ball and heart freeze. Then the guy pulled out a pack of smokes and a lighter. He plucked one with his teeth and slid it out, twisting the pack in such a way that it caught the tip of the cigarette with its edge and bent it upward a little. Then, cupping his hands, he lit the cigarette and took the first draw of a professional smoker.

Then he spoke, "Sorry pal but I ain't no idea what your bleating yer gums aboot,"

It wasn't Spikes voice, but then it wasn't like any voice Jet had ever heard; it was a front, a mock, Spikes voice made deeper than it should be.

"That isn't fooling anyone Spike, so quit it and come clean,"

"Like I said, sorry pal but I ain't your friend Spike Spiegel. In fact, that name sounds like the kind of name you'd give a kid who needs to be kept on a leash or have mittens pinned to his jacket."

Jet growled as he approached, still keeping a respectful distance of ten paces or so. "Yeah, well maybe I should have pinned mittens to your jacket,"

"That an insult?"

Words weren't working, Spike just wouldn't admit he was who he was. So Jet pulled his pistol from the inside pocket of his overalls, "We'll just see won't we,"

The maintenance man stepped back, still facing side on to Jet and Musashii with his head down tilted, "Be careful mister, there ain't no need for violence anyhow,"

Jet clicked the magazine catch and released the clip into his cybernetic hand. Then he tossed it heavily at Spikes head. For a split second he panicked; what if it wasn't spike. The guy panicked, yelping like a terrified dog about to have its teeth booted out, and cast himself to the floor just as the clip passed him by.

"Alright Spike, that's enough. it's a good act,"

The guy pulled himself to his knees, slightly trembling and said, "Why won't you leave me alone mister. I ain't yer pal…or enemy jus' please leave me be,"

There was one last trick Jet had up his sleeve. If Spike wouldn't just admit he used to be a bebopper he had to make him want to be a bebopper again, or at least see them one last time.

"Faye's dead, because of you," he said, "She tried to save you and the Red Dragons killed her," Dirty trick, but these where dirty times and down here was a dirty place.

"Who's Faye," he said still trembling.

"God-dammit Spike!" let the echo of his voice die, then, "They cut on her pretty bad you know. Said it was what she gets for being buddies with you,"

The maintenance man stood up now, back completely to Jet and Musashii as he said, "I'm sorry if your buddies girl's dead. But I really don't know anyone called Faye."

If that hadn't done it then nothing would. It wasn't Spike. Just an almost exact copy of him with a mundane life, a nobodies life. Right then, Jet hated him for not being Spike, hated him enough to break the guys neck. His bionic hand clenched as though wanting the kill, wanting to expel that hatred at the universe, the hatred Jet had for the sick gods who'd manipulated him to this point and given him no fruits for all his labour.

Musashii spoke then, "But Spiegel-San, it must be you," he stepped forward, leaning into his words to give them more force and curling a bicep with clenched fist.

The maintenance mans shoulders twitched and his head jerked a little to the left right before his whole body went rigid and the sweeping brush clattered to the floor.

"I know that voice,"

* * *

Well we're getting close to some answers now, as Jet probes deeper Hyperion. What's with the maintenance man, is he Spike…looks like he might be. But what about Faye, stuck with Fatty and subjected to who only knows what. Lucky for Faye he's off women. But since when did the ISSP have a bounty on her pretty little head? 

Anyway, chapter nines done with and that brings us toward the end of act 2. The stage is being set and we'll soon see if the Bebop crew are ever going to be reunited.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewing or just reading. Oh and thanks to sincerity for the point on twisting leaf--you won't believe how long I spent thinking that up.

Christ I can't believe this story has gone on as long as it has.


	11. Intermezzo

**Intermezzo: Then:**

**Tharsis City Works Quarter, Warehouse Eleven.**

"_What are we dealing with?"_

"_Multiple stab wounds, GSW to the upper left arm and shrapnel wounding to the head. Pupils are blown, trauma to the facial area,"_

"_Christ, this guys a car crash. Start two large bore IV's and prep the ICU. Stat!"_

"_What about him? GSW to the chest, trauma to the head, pulse is steady but it won't stay that way,"_

"_Take him to the ICU. But this ones top priority," _

* * *

Spike Spiegel -the very same Spike Spiegel who would later that day: steal his old swordfish racer out of the Bbop, leave a note in Faye's stash box and then avoid her at the cemetery- felt the cold rain on his face, cold like ice in the otherwise warm atmosphere. It wasn't rain, it was water ice cold, dirty water. 

Was he dead? In hell maybe? No. He could still feel the openings on his body that had been bandaged and pumped full of pain killers. His left shoulder still burnt where Vicious had shown him how accurate he was with a throwing knife and the bullet that had punched into him just above the elbow on the same side. The back blast from a mistimed C4 explosion that had left a spilling gorge in his head, bleeding into his eye. They all ached through him like someone was running a mild electric current through his body.

But the real pain was across his gut. The long crimson equator where vicious had raked that deadly katana through him like a hot spoon sizzling into a pot of honey. No amount of painkillers would take that burning hot hatred away from there.

Gingerly, almost scared of what he might see, Spike peeled open an eyelid and looked out into the darkness of wherever he happened to be. A warehouse, morning blue over the skylights. His wrists chaffed from the rope binding them.

It was dark, dank, musty like any warehouse, but Spike recognised this one. Memories of unloading crates filled with things he chose not to ask questions flooded back to him. Lighting up a smoke and then blasting a shot of red-eye into his pupil when the hard days crime was done. Going home and making love to Julia while Vicious' back was turned. This was warehouse eleven, Red Dragon's import central.

It hurt just thinking, as he opened his other eye. The pain in his body refusing to give him even a second of respite but his mind wouldn't stop thinking even if he asked it nicely. It was working furiously to put the last three or four days together. Killing Vicious and letting it all go. Setting sweet but deadly Faye, and righteous but lenient Jet Black be free of his heavy burden. Then there had been a few bits of scrambled voices and at last. Peace. And now he was here, looking into the angry stone faces of about fifteen Dragons disguised as men in suits. Long trench coats and sunglasses that marked them out as _the people you don__'__t screw around with_. Fate really had a way of surprising you and sticking it too you at the same time.

One of the Dragons stepped forward with a smirk on his face. The kind of smirk the sadistic executioner has right before he calls "roll on two" and a hundred thousand volts of death pour into your head while you ride the lightning all the way to hell. He waved a dismissive hand at his buddies and they filtered away until there were just a pair if brutish looking bodyguards. Both bald headed and about the same size as…_what__'__s his name again?__…__Oh yeah, Jet Black_.

"Good morning Mister Spiegel," he said pulling up a chair from out of Spike's eye line and sitting on it backwards. The guy was almost emaciated he was so thin, his hair gone by the nature of age except for two greying tufts that arced over his ears like hairy bridges.

"Ito Tanaka," Spike said, spitting blood as the words pained him like a hammer to the chest.

"Ahh, he has a good memory. For a traitor."

Spike struggled, raising his head to look Tanaka dead in the face as he said, "Where was the 'coin operator' when the rest of the Red Dragons were getting killed?"

"I was down here, checking the documents Spiegel. There's more to crime than just being a gun monkey. Like you were. Just a fucking shit brained puppet,"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Spike got the answer he'd expected, a hard back hand across the jaw that made him spit more blood and feel pain more than he'd expected. He made a mental note not to do it again.

"Well now that you've shut your mouth perhaps you'd like to know why you're still alive," Tanaka was enjoying this far too much.

"Because-"

Another hard strike and, "I didn't say speak you worm. Now, the reason you are alive is because I told them to keep you alive. To take you to Tharsis general, but do you know what's funny?"

Spike waited, squinting as his punched eye began to feel heavy. Tanaka gave him the nod that it was alright to speak. At last he groaned out the words like a kicked dog, "A welsh corgi pissing in a bald guys bonsai tree?"

"Make all the jokes you like Spike, old buddy," there was some real venom in that last part. Spike and Ito Tanaka had never gotten on, even when Spike was loyal to he Dragons. Even when many admired him for being the leash around Vicious' neck. Spike had always disliked Tanaka's love of money, he didn't enjoy the job just the cash. "But you'll be laughing on the other side of your face when he wakes up,"

"Oh yeah?"

Tanaka leaned in close, close enough for spike to smell the rancorous odour on his breath and see the age in his eyes, though Tanaka would call it wisdom. That kind of thinking was what got him the job as book keeper.

"You're bullet was pretty bad, two inches from blasting apart his heart. So close Spiegel, yet two inches can be two miles in these terms. But do you know how bad it was for you?"

While Tanaka blithered on about unimportant Red Dragon honour stuff, stuff that hadn't meant all that much to Spike for three years or more, something took hold of him. Creeping up through Spike's feet past his knees and all the way up into his brain like a daemon possessing him or some kind of puppet master hooking strings into his limbs. Come see the Spike Spiegel puppet, see him dance and prance like a real boy.

At last, in what must have been no more than three seconds he answered, "Feels like a hangover the size of Jupiter."

Somewhere the puppet master plucked his strings and Spike's thumb popped out of place. Then slipped it through the bindings.

Tanaka sneered, "Well-"

Spike cut him off with a noisy and intentional yawn, "I'm sleepy," he said, stretching his arms up and out of the bindings, mocking his hosts.

Before Tanaka could react, Spike's free hand with a dislocated thumb had jabbed him in the throat and he was clutching his windpipe. Eyes bulging out of his old head as Spike belted him with an overly casual roundhouse kick into the two fumbling body guards.

"Get him. Kill the bastard!" Tanaka choked.

Spike's long legs were already moving. Not as fast as they could but considering the bandages covering few-day old wounds were reddening with his blood again, a diminished performance wasn't entirely unexpected. He cleared the large warehouse floor, empty but for a few crates filled with illegal crap. Gun shots whistled past and smacked into the corrugated iron walls as Spike bolted through a rickety person-sized door.

The docks outside thrummed with activity as ships sailed past in the distance. If only the Bebop was there or that little tug-boat with Joan and Steve those two freelance fishermen, who always said howdy when they moored the Bebop. _Christ, what kind of thing to be thinking about was that? _he thought as he instinctively darted around the side of warehouse eleven.

The Red Dragon wagons sat in the car-park with a bunch of guys standing around in trench coats and smoking cigarettes. When the first one noticed Spike it was only because of the balled fist that almost knocked his eyeballs out of his head from behind. So he never really noticed anything as he hit the concrete like a sack of dirt.

The others opened fire as Spike darted out from behind the packing crates he'd used for cover on the approach. In one fluid motion that hurt a hell of a lot more than he showed, Spike rolled over the unconscious Dragon, ripping the trench coat from him and wrapping it around his body. He was after all naked from the waist up but for half a mile of white cotton.

"Its Spiegel,"

"Kill the bastard, don't let him get away,"

It was too late for that, Spike was already in one of the truck cabs that some jackass had left the keys in the ignition of. He started it and shifted into first, jerking the truck forward as fast as he could and cutting around the back of the packing crates.

Pistol shots scarred the trucks side as he shifted up and cut around the edge of warehouse ten. Hammered forward and reached forty as the Dragons started firing again. This time he cut between a bunch of big fuel cylinders and hit sixty as he smashed through the lowered security barrier.

From behind him, someone hit a fuel cylinder and a fiery sunset erupted in the wing mirror.

Now, as he tore out in a battered bullet scarred truck, the puppet master released Spike's strings and he finally became a real boy.

_Great plan lunkhead. Now what are you gonna do, go home to the Bebop, hunt bounties with Jet Black on Mars and Fuck Faye Valentine in the shower? _He cursed that survival instinct he'd learnt in the Red Dragons, whatever happened to: _You're gonna carry that weight_, here he was; running away. For a moment his hands twitched on the wheel and he had to fight from pulling a one eighty and driving back to his death. The predictable Berretta left in the glove compartment wouldn't have been much help down at warehouse eleven.

He couldn't go home the Bebop. Because it wasn't home for him to go to, the Bebop was Jet and Faye's home now. If he went back there he'd just end up getting them all killed. He didn't care so much if the Dragons came for his blood, but not the man who'd taken him in when he was lost in a world of his own making. Nor could he let them hurt the girl who'd saved him all those times he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

To figure out the present you have to forget the past, but the past is a paradox, it can't be forgotten until its remembered. He had to go back, back to where it all started, back before Faye Valentine and Jet black; before Julia and partnering up with a psychopath called vicious. The place where he mat a man named Mao Yenrai in an opera house. Right after he won the race that set the wheels in motion and brought him to where he was right now.

Back to Hyperion.

* * *

Well, that's the intermezzo and that means we're onto the last legs of this crazy journey. It looks like Spike survived after all (was there ever any doubt) but what about Jet, is Spike going to confess his true identity. And what about Faye, still in Fatty's clutches, things really aren't looking good for her. 

Next Chapter: Faye Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest.

Thanks again for the reviews, I'll return the favour at some point.


	12. Faye Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest

Alright! Finally we get some answers. Of course this is all unoficial answers, nothing to do with Watanbe yadda yadda yadda.

Enjoy, let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 10: **

**Faye Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest**

There was a line. A long line running parallel with thousands of other lines, hell, millions maybe even billions of other lines. But seeing these lines took a special set of eyes. Eyes trained to see them, figure out where they were heading and act accordingly. Eyes trained by the ISSP.

Jet saw the line now, saw the long line that had started with Faye Valentine curled up like a scared child. The line that started with Jet Black taking a quick detour out to Olympus Mons and screaming blue murder to the heavens. Now the line was shorter, its end in sight as it prepared to branch off into new lines that led to new things.

The dark green cap fluttered to the floor and revealed a near shaved scalp beneath with only a few tufts of messy mossy hair. A blood clotted piece of bandage was wrapped around a familiar shaped head, one too small for its shoulders. The maintenance man turned slowly like a picture real cranked in slow motion, revealing his off coloured eyes and upturned nose.

"Spike! It really is you?" Jet said in spite of himself.

Spike's arms folded across his chest and he leaned sideways against a gurgling maintenance pipe, looking darkly past Jet. He reached into his overalls pocket and fished out a pack of smokes, plucking one with his teeth and lighting up without care for the big red NO SMOKING sign overhead, bending it again in that way that resembled his nose.

"What's _he_ doing here Jet?" his voice was weak and grumbling now, dropping the act and letting the painful reality of being a dead man come back to him.

Musashii cut in then, pushing his way boyishly past Jet and bowing down to one knee, "Great

Spiegel-"

"Ahh, that voice its like nails on a chalkboard,"

Musashii looked up, Jet couldn't see his face but no doubt it was hurt. The samurai rose to his feet and touched his knuckles onto the sword scabbards. He said, "We have clashed before. It was an honourable battle that-"

"Jesus Christ, shut up Andy,"

"It is a great honour to reacquaint with the mighty sp-"

Spike's eyes burned a hole into Jet's as he stared straight past Muasashii with a near hating, half disbelieving hung jaw. "What the hell did you bring this jackass for, he probably led them right here,"

"Well, I go by the name Musashii now-"

"Yeah whatever _Andy_," Spike said with some real venom. "Come on Jet, spill it, why's he here?"

"Wait a minute Spike. No, its great to see you Jet, sorry I didn't check in Jet, how's the ship doing Jet," He heard the fire in his own voice, not even he realised how much he'd wanted these answers. "And what the hell do you mean by _them_?"

Spike smoked on the notion, taking his time to answer as a spire of blue smoke rose in to the ceiling vents. At last he a said, "Huh. Shoulda seen that coming,"

His casual stance switched to a more active one, sweeping across the ten feet distance to Jet and Musashii in three easy steps. Musashii clumsily bowed again as Spike passed him, but his respectful show went entirely ignored.

Looking Jet dead in the eyes he said, "I thought you used to be a cop Jet. No wonder you quit,"

"Excuse me?" Jet felt fire bubbling in his guts.

"You must have been a lousy cop if you didn't figure it out." he flicked a smoke out of the pack toward Jet who caught it in his cybernetic arm, lit it and began smoking. "You really thought I'd go back to the Bebop. Christ there was better chance of me going to live with Mendolin on Moroccan street,"

Jet grimaced, not quite sure he wanted the truth as he smoked on the sweet tasting cigarette. Hyperion may have been a scum hole but they knew how to roll their tobacco. At last he said, "So you'd finished with Faye and me huh," spat on the floor, "Like old junk right? I knew you were unpredictable Spike, but Christ after we heard you where dead you hurt Faye so damn bad." He spat again, "It hurt me just looking at her like that,"

"Hah, I knew she wasn't really dead,"

"So damn sure of yourself huh," Jet said, almost snarling at his old buddy.

"Speaking of her, where is the queen of Sheba?"

"COD came after her. She ran so we could find you,"

"How noble," Spike said, actually sounding a little flattered despite trying to be sarcastic, "I couldn't come back Jet. Same reason as Julia couldn't go anyplace, because we're both dead and when you're dead, people don't try finding you."

"Really," Jet said, plucking a sheet of paper from his pocket and tossing it at Spike. Clearly the green haired lunkhead knew exactly what it was from the shimmer in his good eye. "Then what the hell d'ya call this. leaving stuff like that for Faye to find,"

"She figured out what it meant?" his casual voice oozing cool.

"No," Jet said shaking his head, "But you know Faye, she can only keep a secret if it serves her and nobody else. Hell that's not just Faye, its any woman with a mouth,"

"She showed it you huh?"

"Yeah, and I remembered our little chat about the tiger striped cat. A million lives right, 'cording to this," He pointed at the note, "you still got one left,"

Spike smirked, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on the case of a whistling exhaust fan. Said, "Remember anything else about that cat?" lit up another cigarette, "Like how he didn't care for his owners,"

"Yeah, I remember you said you hated that story too."

"Maybe, Jet. But here's where the story picks up. If I have another life in me, who else do you think does,"

The feeling came up on Jet like a tidal wave of revelations. Something he'd said to Faye a long time ago (it felt that way at least), back when he'd been moving on, when he'd convinced himself Spike Spiegel was gone forever, when he'd screamed himself hoarse. When he'd told her:

_If he comes back then I have to start worrying again and if he's alive, then I'll bet Vicious is too and that's a mess I can't get mixed up in again. _

And on top of that he'd vowed he didn't want Spike to come back, but now here he was, going to Spike. Christ Jet Black could be such a damn hypocrite.

"Spike, I hope you're joking around,"

Spike shook his head, "Sorry Jet, Vicious is alive somewhere. And it wouldn't surprise me if he followed Andy-"

"Musashii," the samurai cut in.

"_Andy_, right to me," pausing for a smoke, "Well, guess it was bound to happen eventually," he judged his cigarette for a moment, seeming to wonder how many puffs of sweet poison were left in the tobacco. Then, he opened the toolbox at his feet and pulled out a wrinkled stuffed up trench coat with a nine mil' in its folds.

Jet cursed himself for being so foolish. Spike was right, he really was a shitty cop. "Come on we gotta warn Faye. If the Dragons are out there she won't have too long,"

Spike was already ahead of them, a good way down the maintenance tunnel, he glanced back at Jet, lost in his own thoughts and said, "You coming or what. The vid phones get good reception out in front of the opera house,"

* * *

Finding herself locked in the bathroom of Fatty's big T shaped ship, Faye had everything she needed. Men were like putty and she was the mould, life could be so easy. The valve wheel door was locked but her cuffs were off, and Fatty was outside, waiting to slap the cuffs back on her when she was squeaky clean. 

As it happened, she was already squeakier than an excited mouse right before it snatches up that free lump of cheeses and then…_whack_, the trap slams down on it with spine shattering force. Faye trembled in her white boots, everything had to be timed right if she didn't want to be that splattered little mouse.

She'd showered in five minutes, she was always clean inside of ten, even on the Bebop, the rest of the hour was just the comfort of hot water on an otherwise chilly ship. It wouldn't be so cold if Jet let her turn the damn heating up but no…that would waste energy. Now with her body back to its immaculate silky soft cleansed beauty, and she'd slipped back into the yellow vinyl and suspenders, setting her hair the way she liked it with her headband, it was time to finish up her genius escape plan.

The second they came out of hyperspace it was all ready, she reached down and clicked the anklet she wore. The anklet that was sometimes a bracelet, sometimes it used a gravity manipulator to do dice tricks and sometimes it was a homing beacon. On this occasion it was the latter.

"Alright," she whispered into her lipstick tube, "Do it,"

She silently thanked the powers that be for the hyperspace deflector array on Fatty's ship that let her communication go out to the satellites and bounce all the way back to Earth. She also thanked them for the little genius back on Earth always ready to help.

Phase one of her plan -which she improvised in the hot shower's steamy water she was already missing- happened in under five seconds flat. The sound of a thousand fly's humming as they beat their wings in an electric frenzy of light bulb filaments. The light in the shower glowed white hot and shining so bright Faye didn't dare luck at it. In fact she was huddled by the door with her face buried in her hands when the bulb and every other bulb on the ship exploded into a shower of crispy glass.

"What the hell?" Fatty shouted from outside as the shipboard electrics went nuts.

The virus coursing through Fatty's ship stalled the gravity wheel and Faye began to swim toward the valve wheel door as that big valve spun all by itself. She barely had to push as the weightless environment allowed the door to open from a nudge.

Fatty was outside, struggling to swim like a pig up to its neck in swill. He snorted as he saw Faye and began scrambling through his dungarees for a pistol. His body tumbled and rolled in its weightless form, clearly it was disconcerting for a man used to having so much mass. Faye gave him a ladies seductive finger wave as she swam off through another door and toward the…_docking bay? Where the hell was the docking bay? Nice one Faye._

"Ed, Ed, where the hells the docking bay," she yelled into her lipstick tube.

"Faye-Faye need the bay-bay,"

"Quit screwing around Ed,"

"Edward doesn't know what Fatty fatty boobalatty ship looks like," the girls voice was beginning to distort in the static.

"Oh forget it, thanks a lot Ed," Faye snarled as she swam through a hallway, clicking the anklet again and bringing the red tail to life.

She swam through three more rooms before Fatty cut her off, pointing a nine millimetre at her. His face was flushed red as he bobbed in the lack of gravity, emergency lighting flickered red between them.

"Now I didn't want to hurt you little lady but it looks like I got no choice now,"

Faye panicked, seeing the barrel of a gun pointed her way brought back some unpleasant memories of a cathedral, a sword, a bunch of scumbag crooks and a foul smelling dead body slit form ear to ear in an opera house booth. The memory of the tall, articulately spoken and _incredibly _polite prince charming who came to her rescue because he secretly loved her instead of some plain old bimbo…she realised her thoughts had just run off past Uranus and were racing for the outer limit.

"Wait, don't shoot I'll-" she didn't have to finish her sentence as the ten feet between them exploded inward in a rainstorm of steel shrapnel, console boards and twisted up support girders. The sound itself, that of metal tearing against its kin like paper, was enough to make them both go for their ears.

The Red-Tail's life sphere -squeezed up between the small bulkheads- popped open on the side closest to Faye like the doorway to safety. She swam in and shut herself in the cockpit as fatty began to shoot, his bullets panged off the life sphere pitifully . Then, seeing her reverse the thrust on Red-Tail he made for the nearby valve wheeled door.

The left shoulder thrusters she'd lost in the fight with Fatty was still broken but the right was shut down too and the little central rocket was the only thing propelling her through Fatty's ship. The experience was like a car slamming through tin can walls and taking only a few dents in the process.

She gunned the engine as she ripped into the docking bay and put a full one eighty through the propulsion unit as she bolted around to face the big spiral docking door.

Losing things wasn't to Faye's liking, so she slammed on the breaks and opened the cap while Red-Tail simmered on a cushion of pleasant warm air. She stumbled and scraped through the fowl smelling debris, as hot tangy oil floated through the air as though it were on a lakes surface. It didn't take long for her to find the Glock thirty and its clip when they were floating at roughly eye level.

Then she swam back into her ship, realising how stupid it had been to do that. Wasting precious time to get back a pistol, but still it was her pistol and be damned if greedy Fatty was getting it.

Time to get through the docking spiral. Ed's virus made that nice and easy as she simply sent any old command code through her deflector and ping, the dock cycled open from the centre out.

The un-pressurised guts of Fatty's ship began to blow out in the wind along with Faye and her Red-Tail. Lucky for Fatty' he'd got through that door to safety. A moment later the dock spiralled shut.

While Fat boy struggled getting his ship back in operating order, Faye used the little thrusters she had left in Red-Tail and pushed the ship around in a wide arc across the Jovian system. Ganymede was up ahead with some ISSP police cruisers hovering in formation. There was something about that formation, like they were expecting her to run, but if Fatty had her how the hell could she run? Maybe it was just cops overcompensating, Jet did that a lot and cops were all the same. She'd thought that about hackers once too, then she met Ed.

The gate that led through to Saturn and its satellites was a good ten seconds space flight away, all gold and hoop like in the distance, like the open door of a friendly neighbour when the psychopath down the road lets his dog of the leash for chuckles. She checked her instruments to see the police cruisers still holding formation in that bizarre streaked out but distinctively snaking pattern.

As quick as her nimble slender fingers could manipulate her tap-screen she sent a transaction through to the hyper gate; five thousand woolongs, what a rip off. Her bank account would be dry before long, but she'd have Spike back before long too. And when Spike was there, there was always money to be had, even if it was fresh out of lunkhead's wallet when he wasn't paying attention.

She gunned the engine, opening the throttle as wide as it'd go and leaned almost full body over the handle bars as the little thrusters pushed her toward safety. By the time she was at the hyper gate she was rocking back and forth, growling in the piloting seat as though her shuffling motions would somehow get her there quicker. Gripping her lower lip under pearly white teeth, she watched the hyper gate satrburst to life in that ocean blue and ice white that always mesmerised Jet like a drooling zombie. Then, breaking into buckets of sweat, the little beads bursting all over her forehead and streaking her silky skin, she continued top-speed into the event horizon.

She was almost out the other end of hyperspace when her vidicom began to buzz, ringing to the tune of YK's: _Piano Black_. Wasn't that the caller ID she'd given Jets number? She thought to herself as she clicked open the link and was greeted by a semi visible image of Jet black's ugly mug. Distortion waves passed over him, bloating and thinning his head in a way so comical Faye had to giggle at him.

"Faye you there?" Jets voice came through the static like rocks being smashed through rippling water.

"Yeah, Jet. I'm here,"

"Oh…escaped…been trying…forever," damn static.

She tapped at the instrument as she kept one eye on the hyperspace traffic and the other on Jets face. Said, "Dammit. Jet I can't get a clear signal,"

"Faye…Spike," more static as the picture went temporarily dead and then buzzed back to being snow-blind for a moment then back to Jet.

Something about Spike, what? Had he found Spike. The search coming to an end so quickly, the lunkhead can't have been hiding too well. But then Faye had always figured Spike never played hide and seek as a kid, more likely the type to send paper aeroplanes gliding into the teacher during class.

"Jet…Jet?" she shouted, trying to get a clear image.

The damn deflector was packing up, why was fate always so cruel to her. Then, fate tossed her a bone with a rag of meat still clinging to it. It was Spike, his fuzzy green hair just visible and that reversed hook on his nose but most of all those different coloured eyes. It was Spike and he was breathing. Wait a minute, was thay _really_ Spike?

"Let me see it," he said, snatching the vid-phone from Jet between crackling bouts of static. Then as Faye expected he began slapping the side of the device and shaking it.

In Spike's tried and tested method of in-flight starship maintenance, she did pretty much the same thing, slapping at her monitor and even bringing up a white booted heel to kick at it.

"You…guys…break," she heard Jet say in a frantic voice. Right before the line went dead.

Spike was down there on Hyperion and now she had to see him, she had to get there and she had to tell him…what? In all the fuss of things she hadn't thought of what she'd tell him. That Julia was a loser and he should be with her? Yeah, nice idea Faye, tell him his lover was a loser. Dammit, now she was in a pickle, what _could_ she say to him? What did she _want_ to say to him?

The Red-Tail punched through the event horizon with spine shaking force and gave Faye a look over the beauty of Saturn and her rings. Smoggy Titan was off in the distance and nearby was Hyperion. The Galaxy's biggest opera house. More like the Galxy's biggest waste of money. She tapped on the radio as she sped towards it, listening to the line up for the big YK event. Maybe she could land on the roof and get a look in if they had some skylights.

She reached Hyperion quicker than she'd expected, or perhaps just quicker than she'd have liked since she didn't know what she was going to say to Spike. Reunited at last, she thought that like they were long lost loves, like she was his Julia. Damn Julia, 'Plain Jane Julia' with boring blond hair and her drooping ordinary face. Boring blue eyes, like there weren't half a million women with blue eyes. Spike really had a lousy taste in women, or maybe he didn't maybe Julia had just been a brief lapse in his judgement.

Thinking hard about it, she realised Spike was probably the most attractive guy in the galaxy. Who else had a perfectly proportioned body, neatly kept hair and an excellent manner toward women. And of course there was his smile that was in _absolutely no way _arrogant and condescending. He was the perfect man. He must have been bored of supermodels when he fell in love with Julia. Or maybe she had inner beauty. Faye burst out laughing, she couldn't even think that pile of crap with a straight face.

She cut the Red-Tail in steep through the artificial atmosphere on Hyperion and scanned the opera house as it screamed toward her. The Bebop was floating with her engine drives sealed up in a body of water--a dock of some type off to the east. But she could see the boys now, all three of them in front of the opera house. At least Spike hadn't killed Andy, or Musashii or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself these days.

As the Red-Tail hissed to a halt, landing less than ten feet from the three waiting men (she always enjoyed those flashy entrances) she got a good long look at spike for the first time in about a week.

But was it Spike? No, it couldn't be him. His head was shaved almost bald and he was wearing a maintenance guys overalls. Where was the cheap blue suit and yellow shirt and that loosely strung necktie. And his legs, _Jesus Christ when did his legs get so long? _The gangly things were practically up to his chest. It was funny how a woman's memory worked, only a week had gone by since she'd last seen Spike Spiegel and she'd already made him up to be some charmer, the ultimate in male perfection. She felt stupid as a schoolgirl with her first crush at that moment.

And with that sweeping realisation of how Spike looked outside, of her deluded silly little fantasy, she realised a lot more about Spike. The important stuff that made him the unbelievable man he was on the inside. All the things he'd done to her and Jet in the time they'd travelled together.

And like that, Faye Valentine knew what she had to say to spike.

Faye Valentine stalked toward the three men with a confident swagger in her step. And why shouldn't she, the world was like a clear blue sky, or a jigsaw puzzle that was only difficult for ages three to five. She knew everything important and she knew how to make that knowledge clear. The same way she made everything clear, not with a whisper, but with a bang. Spike Spiegel had to pay, because you see…there is nothing more hated in all the world than a traitor.

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Alright, time for some actual authors notes on this chapter. And of course, they are going to be on the lovely (or not-so-lovely) Faye Valentine. 

We've seen some serious changes in her character throughout the story so far. Of course, Faye was upset about Spikes death toward the start, hence her self pity. But for me, Faye's way of handling things has always been one of the most enjoyable things about her character. So what? She shouts and curses what's so interesting about that, wrong! Faye may handle trivial things that way, or practical things such as being chased down by debt collectors. But if you think this shrew is an unemotional she-devil, watch Hard Luck Woman again. She's a confused girl out of time and after getting screwed over into debt, she toughened herself up but really, she's still a child so when one of her comrades gets wasted, she strikes me as the kind of girl who would have no idea how to handle herself and probably feel a lot stronger about Spike than she originally did. That's also the reason I've had her with this ridiculously inaccurate image of Spike built up in her mind. More on Faye after the next chapter.

Next Chapter: The Monster Is Loose


	13. The Monster Is Loose

Well, here's chapter eleven, Faye and Spike are finally reunited.

I have to say I'm pretty proud of this chapter, it went _almost _as well as I wanted so I hope you enjoy it.

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**Chapter 11: The Monster Is Loose**

Jet Black couldn't believe what he was seeing. The usual sexy femme-fatale strut of Faye Valentine looked almost perverse and insane as she made her way toward them now.

She wore her trademark sunglasses, masking any emotion that would disrupt her untouchable temptress guise. She wore those cow-hide fingerless gloves, the kind that made punching easier on her knuckles. And today it seemed like she'd felt the need for that scarlet jacket -worn properly instead of just through the sleeves- tied up under her bust.

But the clothes and the strut wouldn't have meant anything unusual. In fact Jet had half expected her to hop down out of Red-Tail and jump forwards into Spike's arm with a great big smile and kiss the gangly son of a bitch right on the mouth, without asking. She hopped down from the Red-Tail alright, spry as a spring chicken, and she had a smile on her face alright. But held in her little hands was…was…a _fucking_ MP5-K submachine gun. Where in holy hell had she got that?

Jet noticed Musashii and Spike having the same thoughts as he was, while Faye gained ground on them. Frozen solid with jaws agape, Spike's cigarette actually dripped from his dry lip and pattered to the floor. His fists instinctively clenched outside his trench coat cuffs. The one he'd been hiding in that tool box a long with a nine millimetre berretta, now stuffed in his pocket.

Faye flicked the sunglasses up on top of her head and gave the three of them a devilish grin that Jet hoped to god wasn't meant for him. Then, she banked the machine gun across them, slowly like she was sizing up who to shoot first. He tried to speak but his mouth was drier than the Martian desert.

Spike spoke up first, in his damn calm and collected voice, "Excuse me Jet, but you told me Faye was looking forward to seeing me,"

His voice came to him, "F-Faye, what're you doing come on, this is a joke right,"

She shot Jet a glance, moist green eyes that were forcibly getting colder as they bore into him with some unknown determination. Her lips still twitched in that seductresses smile, curling into a slightly more friendly warm glow toward Jet. Then back at Spike she returned to the surreal warrior woman holding a machine gun on him, finger twitching like she was ready to hose all three of them with sizzling lead.

"Faye, put the gun down," Spike said, his voice a little harder now, like he was starting to see something in Faye that Jet just couldn't figure out.

"Shut. Up." her words were hard like heavy rain pounding against concrete eardrums. Then, still glowering at Spike, "So, its true Spike Spiegel can't die,"

Jet calmly stepped forward, but his hands shot up as Faye brought the gun to bear on him. He held fast refusing to buck or quake like he was afraid, he wasn't stupid enough to take another step though. Instead it was that ISSP instinct, working hard to see any street patrols or even just a passer-by. There was nobody, nobody outside at least, everyone from the police lady to Reggie Kinsman were probably inside the opera house screaming for YK and her boys to start their gig.

"Come on Faye, what's this about? Did Fatty do something?" Jet dared another step toward her.

"Ah, ah," she threatened, thrusting the gun at Jet, "Don't do anything stupid Jet. Just stay out of this. Its between me and Lunkhead,"

Spike smirked, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Hah, I knew you were happy to see me," he said with that boyish smile.

Faye turned on him then, like a mother confronting the murderer of her child, those green eyes went so cold, so icy like a deep frozen ocean in the twilight, Jet felt his heart go numb. Whatever happened, happened was what Spike might have said, but not the Black Dog. Something was wrong with Faye and whatever happened…wasn't going to be pretty.

"I told you to shut up Spike."

"I never listened to you before, why would I now?"

She braced the Kurze tight against her hip and fixed him with her eyes before saying, "Because, Spike, I have a machine gun pointed at you. Now shut your mouth because you're going to listen to what I have to say,"

"Go ahead," Spike replied smugly as his fingers manipulated another cigarette out of the package into that twisted upturned-tip way he always did.

Faye wanted to speak, that was obvious from her jaw dropping slightly and quivering as it tried to manipulate sound out of her. Moisture glistened on her lower lip in the Saturn-light, back dropping her figure like some mercenary maiden in a surreal painting. But the words, the words her brain so badly wanted to make into sound were caught, her eyes dull as they tried to think of what to say.

Spike chuckled to himself and said, "You gonna start talking or just play with that cannon all night,"

That, clearly hit Faye hard, for a moment Jet thought he could see her recoiling like she had been punched in the gut. Then, she snarled at Spike, not like a scorned woman but like a murderer, the glint in her eye like the one Jet had seen in a dozen guys he'd put away in the past. He knew it, the same way as a baker knew his bread was done from smell alone. The night wasn't going to end well. But then, Jet Black had no idea just how right he was.

"Goddammit Spike!" Faye was more than shouting now, she was raging at Spike as the quiet air began to give way as YK's big concert finally began.

That old favourite as an opener: _What Planet Is This_. Hyperion of course. Jet grumbled quietly as he pawed the YK tickets in his pocket. They could have been inside enjoying the music and reminiscing, celebrating getting Spike back into the fold. Dammit Faye.

Faye continued, her hard edged icy voice forcing Jets good hand subtly toward his holster, "You're a real son of a bitch, I…I hate you,"

"Is that all you had to say?"

"You heartless bastard Spike. I spent the last week wanting you back, remembering things that weren't true. You even look different,"

"Sorry to be such a disappointment,"

"Shut up dammit," she was in blind rage now, rage and blind were, in Jets experience, about the worst combination possible in anyone anywhere. Faye continued, "Do you have any idea what its like to want something back so bad it hurts, and then when you finally do…you can't even-"

Spike wasn't as cool as usual when he interrupted Faye mid sentence, "Who the hell are you to preach about wants?" he almost spat the words, "You spend five minutes on the Bebop and think-"

"You're such a hypocrite, running away like that after giving me such a hard time abut doing the same thing. Betraying us," she waved her head across to Jet, "Running away like that. All you are is trouble! Trouble that's so damn hard to stay away form. Dammit Spike, I, I, I," tears were cresting her eyelids now, one breaking at each corner and avalanching down her cheeks in hot stringy smears.

Musahsii made his move then, stepping out in front of Spike and Jet. His right hand blatantly hovering over his katana handle and in a stance perfect for the lunging-draw and thrust through the belly. His eyes, Jet couldn't help noticing, where unusually resolute, like a bodyguard sworn to defend his client to the death.

"I cannot let you make these threats, Lady Faye," Musashii said quietly, sounding dark and serious for the first time since he'd joined Jet, "Spiegel-San hold my honou-"

Faye screamed in anger as the sound of _What Planet Is This _began to dim out to thousands of cheers inside the opera house.

"Shut up _Andy,_" she said, simultaneously with Spike.

Then Faye really lost it and Jet found his hands going up to guard his eyes as Faye aimed the Kurze skyward. She fired a burst of ear shattering yellow-orange pops that whistled off into the space-black sky above the opera house. The deafening chatter and Faye's own lack of sanity made her blind to what Jet saw unfolding. Musashii's hands, lightning quick.

Faye's machine gun fire was drowned out to an uproarious scream of YK fans inside the opera house. The faint sound of amplified music drifting through the thick walls in the instantly recognisable harmony of a song embodying everything there was to embody and all ways meant something to someone somewhere. _The Real Folk Blues_, courtesy of YK's angelic voice.

Musahsii's hand drew out a six point shuriken and in a fraction of a second, it whistled through the air, shining like a spoked silver wheel, smacked into the Kurze trigger guard. Faye yelped as the hot sparks berated her and the still firing gun span into the air before crashing lifelessly to the ground.

Jet's reaction was automatic as he saw Musashii throw, he was too slow to stop him throwing the first but Musashii wouldn't be endangering any lives again. Jets entire body launched through the air, smashing into the samurai and flattening him against the ground.

Jet looked up to see Spike get his bearings, surprised at what had just happened his eyes refocused and jaw reset as he laid eyes upon Faye Valentine once more. And Faye had taken her chance now, with Jet and Musashii out of the way she was free to show Spike her feelings all to YK's melody.

_**Aishiteta to nageku niwa. **_

Faye's face, scrunched into the hideous form of a daemon tearing its way through the gates of hell, just to kill one man. Her feet pounded the concrete like stampeding cattle as she snarled and slobbered across the twenty foot distance toward Spike.

_**Amarinimo toki wa sugite shimatta.**_

Spike's eyes shone in the Saturn-light with expectation as Faye got close. Jet watched as his two comrades, hell, his two best pals in the whole galaxy, got closer and closer. Spikes fluid flexible limbs shimmering with the gentle breeze.

Faye screamed, "Why'd you do it?"

_**Mada kokoro no hokorobi wo…**_

Faye made the first attack, Spike's upper body shifted sideways, making her balled fist cut air. Her momentum carried her straight over Spike's outstretched leg and she went face first into the concrete.

…_**igasenu mama kaze ga fuiteru**_

Jet watched as Faye, nose bloodied, flipped back onto her feet without even trying. Her entire body bathed in impure hatred now as she went for Spike again. This time she made a right hook, a nasty one that would have pitched any man over despite Faye's tiny skinny-girl frame. Spike, seeming to enjoy the joke of a fight, misdirected her arm and sent her spinning like a pirouetting dancer into a clumsy stumble. Spike danced around her, mockingly, hands circling around themselves.

Faye twisting to face him, "You ruined everything. It could have been perfect,"

_**Kawaita hitomi de dareka naita kure**_

"Ruined what?" Spike said, bringing his hands up. He danced in and out of Faye's slugging reach, making her mistimed punches look clumsy. His body mocked her but his voice sounded genuinely interested.

Faye just snarled and lunged again, this time her hands looking to throttle his lanky neck. She missed as Spike misdirected her again. Stumbling and clawing at his shoulder she spat, "Us!"

_**The real folk blues!**_

"Us?" Spike said, sidestepping Faye's slap at his face, spitting his cigarette out and at the same time scratching his near shaved scalp in confusion.

"You lunkhead. All you can see is Plain Jane Julia,"

_**Honto no kanashimi ga shiritai dake**_

"What the hell are-" Spike didn't have time to finish, the sound of Julia's name had stalled his fluidity for just a second.

A second was all Faye needed, the moment her and Spikes lines had a chance to cross. Her arms grabbed him around the neck and her nimble legs came up off the floor, clamping around Spikes waist the way a lover clamped onto her man after years apart. And then…

_**Doro no kawa ni tsukatta…**_

…she bit the son of a bitch. Her slobbering jaw clamped at the base of Spikes neck, his body whirling with her still stuck onto him. It wasn't a love bite or a gentle nibble to taste his flesh or check he was real, nor that of a sultry sow. It was the bite of a rabid dog, a raving psychopath wanting only blood and pain and blood. Faye's jaw, locked fully open as she sank her teeth into Spike's bleeding flesh.

"What the fuck-" Spike yelled as he swung around again. His arms battering Faye's away from him.

…_**insei mo waraku wa nai…**_

Faye's jaw unclamped as she came up for a gulp of air, spitting blood and giving Spike the chance he needed to slap her off him. She spun to the ground in a heap that scraped and bumped to a bruised mess on the floor.

"I just wanted someone who knew what it felt like," Faye mumbled as she pressed up onto all fours, coughing a little where she'd been winded.

…_**ichido kiri de owaru nara**_.

Jet was on the ball now, back on his feet and stepping in at that critical moment. Spikes eyes were blazing like fiery torches, his body braced for a real fight. Jet saw it and thanked whatever gods might exist that he'd managed to grab Faye as she sprang up to go another round.

He embraced her in a full nelson hold, keeping her arms useless while her legs back kicked at him in flailing flopping clumsiness. She screamed, "Dammit Jet let me go,"

"No way. Both of you two better calm down," Jet said, trying to ignore the pitch of despair in Faye's voice.

"Both of us!" Spike yelled, really loosing his cool, "That psycho bitch just tried to kill me!" he was clutching at his blood river neck now.

"Jeez Faye, what the hell were you thinking?" Jet said, letting his arms slide down and hold her around the abdomen and pressing her arms up against her sides. His hold, tight enough so she wouldn't get away but from the lax of her body whatever daemon had possessed her seemed to be gone now.

"He's…so damn selfish. I just wanted him to know how much it hurt." she wasn't really talking to anyone but herself.

"Nice going Faye, yeah looks like I'm gonna bleed to death now,"

Musashii was already seeing to that, making a bandage from his cloth belt and going to cover Spike's new wound. Spike flinched as Musashii got close, turning and grabbing his wrist in a tight bind.

"Speigel-San, please, let me help,"

"The hell do you know about first-aid?" Spike didn't even seem to care about an answer, his eyes still fixated on Faye.

"Papa sent me to medical school because I was useless in the ranch, but then I became a bounty hunter," He didn't sound at all like samurai Musashii or cowboy Andy.

Spike didn't answer but let his wrist go and offered his wound for the fixing. His eyes bore so hotly through Faye now that Jet could feel his own guts bubbling.

Faye's voice was so quiet now that Jet wasn't sure anyone except he could hear it, she said, "You don't know how much it hurts…to lose everything,"

Spikes ears pricked up like a curious cat about to die under a car wheel, "Excuse me Faye, I lost everything a week ago. My life included, or at least that's what I'd thought," his words were hard with distaste, "Don't tell _me_ what I don't know,"

"Why do you say that?" Faye's voice was shrill, "Julia wasn't everything, was she really worth dying for, throwing away everything else you had. The Bebop, Jet…me?" she flushed with the last word, flushed and tired to ignore the bursting tear beads, but she was still angry at him.

Spike cleared the gap between them and leaned close to Faye, so close that Jet could see the stitch job on a wound down the side of Spike's head. He grabbed Faye by the jaw, puckering her mouth in a violent pinch. Said, "Because Julia was more than the Bebop and anyone else in the galaxy Faye. She wasn't just a woman I loved, she was me and I was her. Like the same flesh divided by the universe, and now, she's dead," he turned away then, as though humiliated by his own words.

"I told you, right before you left, that when I found my past there was nothing left," she spoke through her pinched face, pain in her voice but she was doing a good job of keeping it steady. Spike let her go and she instinctively rocked her head backward into the cradle of Jet's chest. He squeezed her a little tighter, just in case. Then she said, "But I knew where home really was then. And right after I come back home it started to fall apart,"

"I thought you didn't want to come back. Just delivering a message," Spike snarled, glancing up at Jet for a moment. Jet let his eyes roll up, pretending he wasn't listening.

"Ugh, shut it Spike. You knew damn well what I was doing in Tharsis,"

He stepped back, folding his arms and lighting another smoke, "What Faye? What were you doing in Tharsis?"

The glint in his good eye was a mocking one, for a moment Jet felt bad for Faye. Then he felt bad for spike too, looking at the red bandage around his neck.

"I…I was waiting for the Bebop to come back," she muttered like a defeated dog.

Jet couldn't bear anymore, feeling her entire body go cold like she was waiting for death, or perhaps like it had just found her. He let her go and she just swayed where she stood. Then, standing between the two of them he said, "Look, Spike, Faye," placed a hand on both of their shoulders, "I think we should just take a few minutes here. Look, Spike, I think Faye was just a little…surprised to see you again. I mean, you can see how she felt betrayed, right,"

"I don't care Jet, just keep that crazy bitch away from me. I sure as hell aren't coming back to the Bebop now,"

"Don't say that," Faye whispered, "Why can't we just go back to the way things were. You got your revenge right? And you must've found out you were really alive since you…" she didn't bother finishing, it was pretty obvious what she was saying.

"Dammit Faye. You're such a child, you just jump in feet first without thinking don't you," Spike offered her a smoke and she took it timidly, tasting the filter for a long time before she lit it up. Spike added, "You think I was gonna lead them right to your doorstep?"

"Who?"

"Christ. The Red Dragons, you think they just forget about treachery and blowing up their bases and the killing of about fifty mobster. No. they don't they hunt you down, they kill you after they make you watch your family get tortured to death,"

"So you ran away to protect us…then why did you leave all those hints, that note, the swordfish, the cemetery,"

Spike parted his mouth to answer but sound never found the way from his lungs. He was speechless, stumped by the violet vixen as he stood looking stupidly dumb founded. Faye made the first move, pushing past Jet and staring up at Spike with watery eyes, said with the return of her impious smile, "I knew you cared,"

"After his," Spike said, rubbing his neck, "I'm not so sure anymore,"

"Oh I'm sorry I bit you, ya big baby," Faye's voice was tougher now, but she was genuine, Jet could tell that for a fact.

Spike softened, maybe it was something in his heart, maybe it was a damp eyed woman that got to him, hell that was what had Jet fighting back a tear or two right then. He listened as Spike, smirking, said, "Just…lets keep out of each others way for a while. Anyway it felt better than a bullet…just,"

"So. Will you come back to the Bebop? And maybe…" she trailed off, not knowing what the hell she was trying to say, Jet presumed.

Spike shook his head slowly, smiling down at Faye and then rubbing her head the way he you might scuffle a child's hair. Said, "You both really put a lot of effort into finding me huh?"

"Yeah, we did," Jet cut in, "Spike, you made a choice for us. You decided to run off to protect us but its our choice. Neither of us are stupid enough not to realise there wouldn't be consequences for what you'd done," Jet felt the anger now, started to realise why Faye had lost it, she always had found it difficult to express herself but _Christ_, there were better ways than biting a guys throat out. Jet added, watching Faye's trembling hands, "We could have faced the dragons together Spike."

"Oh yeah, got the Bebop blasted apart too, right, great plan," he looked over at the ship, floating in the bay and said, "You three better get going, it won't be long before the dragons start combing Hyperion. You don't need to get caught up in this,"

He turned to leave, flicking the last of his smoke away and refusing to make a real goodbye as _Piano_ _Black_ finished inside the opera house. Jet caught Faye around the wrist, seeing she was about to go after him. It was pointless, Spike was twice as stubborn as Faye and Jet combined. It was funny, how the lines could get tangled like that and then straighten themselves out, and run screaming in opposite directions. Life was a funny thing.

Then, the air screamed with the noise of zip-crafts as something spiralled in through Hyperion's artificial atmosphere. Jet looked up to see five or six ISSP ships swooping down and simmering on buffets of hot air as their landing gear unfolded.

"Oh crap, Faye come on," Jet said making toward the Bebop, but Faye didn't move, she was looking at her scuffed white boots with a face longer than a horse. Jet panicked, "Come on Faye, they musta followed you,"

"I'm useless," was all she could say.

Great, back into her selfish little kiddy cocoon. Rejected by Spike, she'd just plummeted straight back into self pity what in the hell was wrong with Faye Valentine lately?

Spike stalled in his tracks as the zip crafts clunked open and the bristle of foot steps marked the arrival of at least ten men. Jet watched after his buddy, hearing the same sound behind him and realising Faye was as good as caught. He couldn't save her, he couldn't save anyone. Dammit, he was starting to realise why Faye felt like such shit.

"Not quite useless, Faye Valentine," the voice seemed to make Spike stop dead, like his brain had just slammed the breaks on and told him: _you ain__'__t going nowhere buddy._

"And that's another voice I know," Spike said softly, turning around with a dark face.

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Wow, Faye really lost it in that chapter didn't she. I hope she didn't seem over the top but I've always felt Faye has serious difficulty handling her emotions. Throughout the series she displays a large host of ways to deal with her feelings. She even goes looking for a fight in Jupiter Jazz when she thinks Spike and Jet aren't coming looking for her. So I figured that given Spike turning out not to be the perfect man she's imagined him to be and seeing he's really alive…well he betrayed her and so he got his punishment.

Oh, also, sorry for the Japanese lyrics to the Real Folk Blues, I just always felt they sounded better. SO if your not aware of the translations it might be difficult to see the narrative and lyrics in context of each other.

Next Chapter: Good Girls Go To Heaven But The Bad Girls Go Everywhere


	14. Good Girls Go To

Well, we're really barelling on with this now. I just finished writing the ending so we're only a few chapters form putting this puppy to sleep.

As a side note, i have a bunch of ideas for my next Bebop story, i'll post a few up on each chapter, let me know what you think and if theres a clear favourite, I know what I', writing next. The first 2 ideas are: Scarlet Eggs: how Spike joined the red Dragons. And: Clearer In The Past, Jet tells faye about how he met Spike.

Anyway, on with the story. A long chapter for you today.

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**Chapter 12: **

**Good Girls Go To Heaven, ****But The Bad Girls Go Everywhere.**

Jet was still in the dark on this one. All he could tell as he stared down the barrels of more guns than he cared to count was that he had a stupid expression on his face. He barely even realised Faye had grabbed onto his arm and was squeezing tight as she cowered behind him. _Great, Jet the human shield._

The ISSP police cruisers were all official, their serial numbers all valid and hot off the press but the guys in them…they were as much ISSP as Jet was a rocket scientist. Each of the ten men looking at him wore a tan trench coat, the same colour as the one Spike was wearing, and held a nine millimetre--though a few had MP5-Navy models or Uzi sub machine guns. And their leader, a delicate looking man, like an ancient book in a library that crumbles the second someone touches it. His eyes were beady and dark like a crows or some other silent murderous bird of prey.

Jet backed up, bumping into Faye as she was right behind him, they both gasped, trying to scream but sound didn't exist in the hap-hazard quasi-reality they now inhabited. All Jet saw was grinning faces of mobster hit men, waiting for their decaying boss to give the order.

"You're comrade proved very useful, Spike Spiegel," the old man said, then turning to Faye and Jet he smiled diabolically, "Ito Tanaka," he pointed at himself, "And you must be Jet Black and the lovely Faye Valentine,"

"Leave them out of this Tanaka," Spike spat, steadying a gun in one fluid motion on the old man. At that moment every mobster turned their barrels toward Spike, he didn't falter, he kept staring straight down that foresight right between Ito Tanaka's eyes.

Paying him absolutely no mind, Tanaka sauntered over to the Red-Tail, sweeping a hand down its hunched shoulder and patting the long machine gun barrels. Said, "A lovely little zip-craft, Miss Valentine. That obese bounty hunter did a wonderful job planting a tracker on it for us. Just a shame he didn't bring you to us, for him at anyway, now we don't have to pay out fifty million for you. Though I was looking forward to the _interrogation,_" he chuckled and his gang joined in. Mobsters didn't pay bounty hunters, they shot them through the face, Jet had seen it happen and interrogations usually meant drugs beatings and probably rape.

"Who are you?" Jet snarled, feeling rage take hold of him.

"At the moment, mister Black, I am the head of the Red Dragons and I am the man who will be killing you all," he said, drawing his own pistol, this one a slim and ornately crafted revolver that must have cost more than a few woolongs. Then turning back to the Red-Tail he started talking again, "They used these in the Titan war you know. I believe master Vicious flew one; they called them hunchbacks amongst the soldiers," then, staring right through Jet and into Faye, who was looking out interestedly at the goings on with no sign of the raving psychotic she'd been only a few minutes ago.

It was funny, how women could be like that, Jet mused to himself. They take a minute to let it all out and the next they're back to their bitchy self-serving selves. Though, no matter how much Faye was trying to hide it, he could still hear her shallow nose breaths and feel the tremors passing over her skin as she squeezed his arm. Still, he was at least glad if this was to be his last moment of life he wasn't going to die alone.

Tanaka continued, mocking Faye, "I am at a loss miss Valentine as to how a lady in," he paused to check a small data pad he took from his pocket, "four hundred million woolongs of debt, could afford such a superb little craft. Tell me, who did you murder for this little hunchback,"

"I didn't kill anyone you dick!" she sounded more than offended at the notion, "And its called Red-Tail,"

"Ah yes," Tanaka said, admiring the ship as he stepped away and nodded at the small crimson lettering on the lower side of the hull, then nodded toward the upper tail of the ship, "You call it Red-Tail despite its tail clearly being pink?" Laughing he added, "Are you perhaps colour blind miss Valentine?"

Faye's fingers dug into Jets arm, enough to make him flinch as she said, "I…I can see it just fine you slime bag,"

Jet forced her back a little at that point, saying, "Faye don't piss this guy off, I don't really wanna get shot,"

And that was where Spike took control of the situation, or at least tried too, "You're here for me Tanaka, let these three go. You don't need their blood on your hands…they're innocent."

"Innocent," Tanaka snorted, "No, no, no, they have heard my name, seen all these faces. No, I'm afraid they are witnesses and have to die. And you Spike Spiegel, will face a long torturous death. How does that make you feel?"

Spike's teeth were gritted and grinding on each other with raw hatred, "You son of a bitch. Nothing but a book keeper, hiding when his buddies were all dying. Shin was more of a man than any of you dirt bags,"

Tanaka drew a thick tubular cigar and lit it up, waving it in one hand in a gentle spiral as though telling spike to hurry it up. Then, "Very nice mister Spiegel but did you forget about all these guns pointed at you," he took a long drag on the cigar, "You can't make any demands. And well," his voice took on an incredibly mocking tone at that point, "it seems two of your comrades were killed in the ensuing fire fight. But don't worry we caught miss Valentine and…well…it seems the COD still have a thirty million reward on her violet little head," he laughed derisively, "Of course it's a shame that the police wagon taking her to jail had some problems with its breaks and well she died too." he turned to Faye with a sinister smile, "Women can't be trusted to keep their lips sealed," back to his men, "Leave Spiegel and Valen-"

"Silence," Musahsii stepped forward, two fingers parallel to his nose, "You bring dishonour on the eponymous Bebop crew with your cowardly execution."

Jet felt the urge rising in his guts, the urge to go out fighting, but the ISSP training had taught him better; that important fact of life: if you make one wrong move with a gun to your head you'd better walk the line or be left for dead. That line was so damn narrow, he hadn't a hope in hell of walking it and living to tell the tale, but dammit if he was going to die on Hyperion he was going to die his way. The howling-violent-barking-biting, Black Dog way.

But what happened next made all that meaningless and gave him the chance of survival. Musashii continued, "A noble samurai will not stand by while his shogun master is beset upon. You will pay with blood,"

Tanaka smoked, looking completely unimpressed, "Kill the samurai first,"

_**Three, Two, One. Lets Jam!**_

YK had moved onto _Tank_ now. Perfect timing YK, just like Musashii.

In a flash, the kids hand had darted inside his robes and a three point throwing star glistened in the Saturn-light, before any Dragons fired their guns it cut the air and mashed into the trigger of Faye's Kurze, still idle on the floor. As the trigger knocked and a full burst of bullets spattered the air, the Dragons hit the deck. One gangster was too late as a bullet went in through his eye and blew off the back of his head in a crimson splatter. The dancing machine gun made the distraction and the Bebopers bolted.

"Come on!" Spike snapped as he sprinted to the top of the concrete stairs, shoving the heavy opera house doors open, clutching at his gut and taking a long gasp as they swung open.

Jet grabbed Faye by the arm and dragged her off up the stairs as Musashii came scuttling up beside them, hands on his swords, "Hurry," he grabbed at Spike and eased him through into the lobby. Spike responded by batting him away, grunting and struggling on at a quick jog. Jet and Faye followed through into a silent lobby, carpeted in gaudy red with oak wall panels and a rotating chandelier that floated a good twenty feet overhead.

Spike, knowing the layout of the place well enough, led them up the main stairwell to the doors where ushers should have stood to turn away late comers. There was nobody here, Jet could smell a set up a mile away, someone had shooed the ushers to make sure there were no witnesses. Jet cursed loudly as Faye broke away from him and bolted up the stairs behind Spike. Her hand moved to the Glock stuffed into the pocket of her scarlet jacket.

"Faye, just keep running," Jet said as he heard the sound of a dozen pissed off syndicate mobsters belting up the outside staircase.

She wasted time, glancing back at him with a shocked look and then a horrified one as she realised how close the gangsters were to their heels. Jet didn't dare look back as the four of them punched on through the doors to the main hall. Jet considered the branching staircases on the flanks of the main well, but if Spike thought the main hall was the best route then…well he had to trust the lunkhead.

Musashii showed off his lightning quick reflexes again as Jet cleared the threshold, with a roundhouse kick, the blonde doofy faced samurai belted one of the doors closed. Spike got the other door with some fancy jeet-kwun-do and then, for a few seconds they were safe.

The opera house hall was filled with screaming cheers and a writhing tidal wave of bodies, silhouetted like one mass of flesh by the spot lighting overhead. They screamed and raved and held lighters aloft to the heavens, jumping up and down as YK and her boys played the music they'd all come to hear. Jet remembered the tickets he'd bought and the money he'd spent. Last time he tried to do something nice for everyone.

_Tank_ had just broken out into that funky minute and some sax solo that Jet desperately wanted to stay and hear. But with the Dragons already opening the doors, and spike shoving on through the crowd toward stage left, Jet had no choice but to follow after his comrades. The sax player, in the throes of musical passion and delighting over a thousand people, would have to wait for another day.

They moved off toward a side exit that seemed completely inconspicuous as the cursing voices of mobsters gained on them. People in the crowd were being violently battered about as the Dragons pressed on, swearing and punching and kicking and throwing. The innocent victims went unnoticed amongst the screaming cheers.

It turned out the inconspicuous door was a concealed entrance to a maintenance locker. Silver grey boxes with triple slashed vents in their doors, were set into the walls, stuffed with dark green overalls similar to the ones spike wore. Jet pushed on, stomping after the others still terrified to look over his shoulder, as Spike led them out down a small set of steps and into a maintenance tunnel.

Fifty-Two-F was stencilled onto the clammy grey wall of the tunnel, laced with belching steam pipes and a narrowed cramping concrete, acoustically pleasant, passage that carried the beats of _Tank_ vibrantly to the sound of clopping boots and sliding sandals. The door battering open from behind gave out to the sound of gunshots, barking at the air and bouncing off the pipes. Shots ricocheted all over the place. Jet breathed a sigh of relief as they turned right at a T-junction before any more shots were loosed off.

"Spike, where the hell are you taking us?" Faye yelled over the din, starting to stumble on her heels.

"Shut it Faye, just keep moving,"

"Lunkhead,"

Jet smirked, the old days seeping back in at the corners of the world. That line they were running on , the gun at their heads, so familiar it started to seem a little wider, a little more comfortable.

Spike thundered down the passage and slowed at an intersection almost stopping entirely and darting his eyes around the three routes. Faye shouted, "You're lost aren't you?"

Spike was quiet, almost deadly still and then his hand slipped into the tan long coats pocket. Brought out the Beretta and slapped back the slide. Jet did the same, unsnapping his holster to get at his Walther P99. Musashii and Faye caught onto the situation and booth went for their weapons.

"This way," Spike suddenly said, as though a light bulb had just been plugged into his brain. He took off down the passageway to the left and Jet stumbled after him, bundling Musashii and Faye along as the sheer want to survive overwhelmed him.

Half a dozen shots rang out from behind and spanged off the architecture as Spike led them around a corner into a maintenance tunnel, stencilled as Sixty-eight-F. The stench of machine oil and anti-freeze cloyed in the air like deadweight, stinging Jets nostrils as he barrelled on. Finally, they turned right at a junction and a large cage door freight elevator came into view. Spike smiled back at Jet with the cocky; _did you ever doubt me_, kind of look as he slapped a palm against the big green button. Musashii looked enthralled at the great Spike-san, and Faye pouted, folding her arms tightly.

A siren began to wail as the cage door slid open on a motorised rack and they piled in, taking what cover they could behind some wooden crates. Faye and Spike popped their heads up from the cover and braced pistol butts against the crate lids. For a moment, Jet saw the apologetic and 'happy to have you back' look in Faye's eyes. Spike responded with a wise guys _fuget-about-it_ smile. Though Jet could see it would be a few weeks before Spike would be on real speaking terms with Faye Valentine again. That was of course, providing they didn't make a wrong move somewhere along the line. Because one wrong move was all it took.

Jet cursed as he fired a storm of bullets down the tunnel, the Walther bucking his wrist and applauding the Dragons as they approached. It was an insane idea to stand up to them like that, but he had little choice as his three comrades had taken up all the cover the crates offered. The Dragons had thrown themselves flat long enough for the cage door to rattle shut and the gears begin to whine.

"Spike, where we heading?" Jet growled as he watched the lower tunnels disappear.

The sound of _Tanks_ high pitched trumpeting marked its end and within a few seconds YK had already started into her next song

"The roof," Spike said, looking down at the control box he hadn't even touched as the weepy melody of _Call me, Call me _echoed through the lift shaft.

Jet was taken away for a moment, the song always did that since a few weeks back when Ed disappeared. Made him feel like sitting alone and pruning a bonsai tree where he could try and figure out the meaning of things. Spike seemed to catch the faraway look in his eyes and said, "Makes you feel like eating boiled eggs huh. Me too," he smiled, they both smiled at Faye but her narrowed eyes and pouting lips said she wasn't happy at the inside joke. Good, some things were best left as bitter-sweet memories.

"The roof?" Jet heard the quiver in his own voice, then he realised what must have been on the roof, "the Swordfish," he saw both Faye and Musashii brighten up, nodding their heads.

Spike didn't, he smiled but it was the kind of _'__so naïve__'_smile and smirk he made whenever Jet asked him about his past. Slumped down against the elevator wall he twisted up the tip of a cigarette and lit it before offering the last three in his packet to the others.

"This doesn't mean I like you, _Andy_," he said drawing the empty pack away and turning back to Jet, "Sorry, but I'm not taking us to the roof, this control panels busted. Looks like we've been hoarded right into a cattle pen,"

"What!" Jet couldn't tell who yelled it first but it was pretty loud, loud enough to drown out _Call, me, Call me_.

Then, reloading his pistol, Jet leaned against the wall with a plume of faint blue cigarette smoke spiralling up from his lips. He said, "Great, so you ran us right into a trap,"

"I don't think so," Spike muttered as Musashii hung on his every word and Faye clasped her hands behind her head. He said, "I came back here because of something you told me Jet,"

"Huh. What?"

"You told me a smart crook hides in plain sight, because only an idiot would do that,"

"Right, so what's your point?"

"Ever heard this story…once there was a racing pilot who worked for some old fart. A damn good racer, and he loved music too. So when a great opera house was built and a race held in its honour, he had to enter. The wise old mechanic he worked for warned him off it but the racer didn't listen and he raced. And he won. But after that he met a man who promised him a better life, easy money. Thinking about the mechanics harsh treatment after all the work he put in, the racer went for the easy route. Smiling faces and less work-"

"We get it Spike," Faye snapped, "It was you right,"

Spike chuckled, "I never said that. But the point is that there's only one man who'd think to look for me here. I was kind of hoping on it actually,"

"Vicious," Jet spat, "so his boys were really just gonna heard us toward the roof,"

Spike looked puzzled, his brow bunching as he drew on his cigarette for a long time. Then, "I guess, he's the only one…but wait, didn't Tanaka say he followed you here Faye,"

"Yeah, so. I thought they were cops, it wasn't my fault," her eyes flashed him to back off.

"Tanaka told me Vicious wasn't conscious yet. And Vicious would never enlist a bounty hunter, so I can't see…dammit," he smoked the last of his cigarette and stubbed it against the gate. Said, "Vicious would confront me head on. No way would he send Tanaka to meet us. Its gotta be someone else. Maybe its one of the Hyperion operatives,"

"The Dragons have operatives on Hyperion?" Jet growled.

"Just a few, Red-Eye pushers mainly. But most front in the-"

"Shit!" Jet said, feeling that someone had twisted that line they all walked into one big circle and was laughing at him. Said, "I think I know who their operative is,"

Spike looked up intrigued, "Really. Who?"

"I think it was the guy who _helped_. Or should I say _had_ us find you," he sighed, realising they'd been played all along. Who could find Spike better than his closest buddy? And then, a quick vid call, the trap set and a nice big bonus for the Dragon that found Spike. Christ it had all the makings of a slap-dash plan. And they'd walked right into it.

When the cage door rolled open with the sound of a knife scraping awkwardly across a plate, Jet was the first to look out, across the open roof. There was barely anything one could call cover up here, the four conical spires in each of the buildings corners were topped by dark iron weather veins and perched on them must have been a dozen or so big black carrion birds. Good sign, Jet thought. The only things that could have been called cover were the two huge exhaust fans about halfway down the roof. But men who earned themselves names like Black Dog knew how to spot traps. Not a syndicate trap. One of those funny man-made traps that fate put there years in advance as though waiting for this moment. Fate, glued against its window to the world like a kid watching snow for the first time, a bucket of butter melted popcorn tucked up under its arm and ready to piss its pants laughing when Jet and co. ran straight into its trap.

Jet looked hard toward the far end of the opera house. Saturn was half silhouetting everything in blackness but there were definitely five or six men across from them. He couldn't tell whether their guns were aimed but it was a damn safe bet they were.

"Jet, you gonna gawk all day or are we gonna kill 'em?" Spike said, checking the load in his nine mil.

"Wait here a minute," Jet said without giving them any further indulgence. Fact was, it would be safer not too, Spike might have been syndicate and Faye might have been a…well who the hell knew what Faye Valentine was but she knew how to handle herself. But to Jet, they were both (and Musashii too) just mister and missus Adams. Civvies; fine, one may have been in a syndicate but that didn't make Spike a tactician, street smart maybe, though what the hell did street smarts mean these days anyway? No, the fact was if he told them to go ahead with the shooting, they'd all wind up dead. Civvies liked ball-zing it up if they thought there was the chance of playing hero.

Jet stepped out onto the roof, the metal outer caging, large enough for the twin freight elevator shafts, hummed and rattled from the heavy top-mounted generator and winch. Jets gut vibrated with it, feeling the pulse all the way though the heavy concrete slabs of the roof. And shivering as the shadows of the spire towers fell in at angles, crisscrossing over Jet. X marks the spot, as they say.

Behind him, Jet could hear his back-up making plans of their own, reminding him so woefully that he was the only cop here. Spike was demanding Faye's gun and she was being pretty hesitant about it. Then he made a snide remark about her not needing it, she had those teeth. His cocky joking laugh, the one that hit the nerve more than his insult. Faye snapped something at him that Jet didn't quite catch over the humming. Great timing to go back to the old Faye-Versus-Spike bout of Bebop madness. At least the two of them weren't tearing each others throats out though. Damn, just thinking about Faye five minutes ago gave Jet the shivers. Funny how women were like that, one minute the claws were out and they were wailing blue murder; next minute; sweet as apples--well maybe not that sweet but definitely-

_What you thinking shit-wit, who gives a fuck about women?_

His mind forced him back to the situation he'd been trying to avoid. Sometimes it would be nice if the illusion could stay when you'd fallen off the line. It never did though, Jet knew it, his old partner had known it, even old nudy-magazine-Bob had known it. No, the human brain was a cruel thing, it made you look right into the abyss of reality before you died.

And then Spike went and did it, like a typical mister Adams. He came out with Faye's gun in one hand and his own in the other, levelled on the silhouettes. Jet had about enough time to say, "Spike don-" and then that was it, trap set. But not the one Jet had been expecting.

A snipers bullet ripped its way through the dark air and smashed the nine mil in Spike's hand straight to the floor, twisting his finger almost to breaking point. Jet's head snapped around and saw the snipers stooped by the spires, holding scoped breach-loaders. He cursed himself for not checking the Spires more thoroughly.

"Alright boys and girls, why not come out of there?"

Jet shook his head, steadying a hand on Spike's shoulder to prevent the jackass trying any other stupid idea. He'd been right about who was there trapper, maybe not the trap itself (which he'd expected to involve the lure of cover from the fans, a pincer movement and a shit load of bullets.) Reggie Kinsman, bending that line into a circle and bringing Spike to the dragons. But his whole plan had really been down to good luck and collaboration with Tanaka's ground force. It still burned Jet like a branding iron though.

After about five seconds of hesitation, the four of them trudged out with hands behind heads and weapons holstered, toward kinsman and his four bodyguards. Including the snipers and the two guys toting AK 47's (the anniversary edition made in 2047 to replace the out of production model) that made nine mobsters and with the winch whining in the background, about ten more were on the way. There was only one thing Jet could think of at that moment. Why the hell couldn't he be in the concert hall listening to _Call me, Call me?_

"Reggie Kinsmen, an usher huh?" Jet spat as he came face to face with him.

"Ah, well," he was grinning the stupid grin of a bank robber who thought the police couldn't get him because he had human rights, "Sometimes I am an usher, and sometimes I'm not," still smiling, a heavy six-gun in his hand, "Take their weapons," that took about five seconds before Jet and his buddies, and Musashii, were just as naked as if they'd had their clothes stripped and hands bound.

"Lets just shoot them," one of the Dragons said from behind a pair of thick sunglasses.

"No, Tanaka said to just hold them if they ended up here." then glowering at Jet, his smile forgotten, "I'm surprised you didn't figure the lifts to be rigged, officer Black Do…Bitch," he said, enjoying his crude little joke with the return of his smile.

"Real good, you think that one up all by yourself, or did your biddies help you." Jet thought it, but Faye said it. Damn missus Adams.

"Faye, shut up. These guys aren't joshing around," Jet said, Spikes eyes agreed and the sadistic smile on Kinsman's lips did as well.

"Why bother, Spike killed us all when he ran onto that lift,"

"So its my fault," Spike said with a nervous smirk.

Damn mister and missus Adams wanting that domestic right in the middle of a police shoot-out. Jesus, he wasn't even getting paid for this crap. Jet wanted to pack it in right then, maybe not if it meant getting fragged but he'd never wanted out more than ever before. The two idiots were going to get them all killed. Fate was going to have its self a side splitting good time while it chewed on that popcorn. Choke on it, bastard.

"I'm not going to take this guys shit," Faye said, pointing a finger at Kinsmen, her eyes reinforcing the statement like slabs of solid green marble, "Just some criminal scum bag who thinks he's big time. Please, you're just a loser with no talents or any real hope in life. If the best you could do outside of crime was an usher its no wonder you joined a syndicate," she was smiling but it was a sloppy front for the heart Jet could almost see ready to explode inside her chest.

Kinsmen wasn't smiling. Faye had actually hit him pretty hard in that way women did, when they somehow figured out a mans deepest personal daemon like a neon sign over his head announced it. He never could figure out how women did that. His old girl, Alicia had done the same thing to him when she left him. Funny, how you think of old girlfriends right before you fall… no, not fall because he wasn't about to fall off the line. Faye Valentine and her big mouth was about to push them all off it.

She continued in her straight arrow manner, anger covering her fear the way it had in the past. She said, "What did Jet call you? Reggie, you might as well be in a coma for all your worth Reggie. Reggie the Veggie," she chuckled, a nervous chuckle, "Ed'd like that,"

Reggie Kinsmen had a look on his face as though to say: _who the fucks Ed_. Faye was right though, Ed would have liked that, Jet smiled at the thought of the red haired mental patient prancing around with those stupid goggles on making some gibberish song out of it. He didn't even realise he was doing it until Kinsman, with a non-too-happy look on his face snarled at him.

"What the fuck you smiling at," he said stomping toward Jet.

The outcome seemed so obvious right then that Jet was convinced his stupid thoughts had bought him a one way ticket to the big precinct house. Fate was still at the window though, tossing him a few more curve balls before the big hitter. Instead Reggie just showed Jet what the grip of a pistol tasted like. Like pain and blood and iron. Then as though to reaffirm who was in charge, "Not so funny now is it?"

"Ooh, real tough guy," Faye said, "You gonna do me next?"

"Oh, I'll do you alright," Reggie said with a smirk.

Jet, from his knees and catching blood in his hand, saw Faye balk from that, taking a step back with revulsion written on her face. Then at last she managed her come back, "Yeah, well you'll have to take me to Mimas, I hear necrophilia's legal there," Not the best come back but it was enough to make Jet crack a subtle smile. Damn subtle this time.

In the heat of the situation none of them had heard the freight elevator wine to a halt and the cage door roll open. The sound of scuffling feet and then…

_Bang_. Our old friend mister nine millimetre.

Less than a second later and a streak of thick red punched out of Faye Valentine's gut like a sideways waterfall, at the tail of a smoking stump of lead that whistled past Reggie Kinsman, blood smattering his nice clothes.

"I hate bounties who talk too much. It was worth the thirty million woolongs," Ito Tanaka mocked, holding a pistol that looked too big for him.

Faye stumbled on her feet, not quite sure whether forward or back was the way to go. Her hands had clasped onto her get and she looked down at them, those green eyes wobbling like jelly in their sockets and mouth open in shock, and all she could say was, "So this is what it feels like to get shot," then she managed a nervous terrified titter and...

* * *

Poor Faye, her big mouth finally got her in big trouble. 


	15. In The Land Of The Pig

**Chapter 13:**

**In The Land Of The Pig, The Butcher Is King.**

…Time slowed like an unwinding pocket watch, became relative to its observer, just like some old Earth scientist said. The whole world became a slow motion camera of black and white as Jet watched Faye Valentine begin to bowl forward. Her violet hair made black by Saturn's light and her long legs buckling at the knee, chin out for that jaw-breaking fall. The black carrion birds on the weather vanes took flight haloed by a shimmer of Saturn, flocking off into the night sky behind Faye as her body decided it was time to lay down.

"Lady Faye!"

"Faye!"

"Julia!"

She seemed to take forever in that fall as she slowly, like a feather in the wind, drifted down into the welcoming hug of cold concrete. Jets heart was already way up past his throat and wanting to make an escape. Spikes eyes were twinkling in the Saturn light, his fake one especially, as he remembered an unpleasant memory. Julia's death no doubt. What an idiotic thing for him to shout, Jet actually felt sorry for Faye's ears.

Finally she touched down like the Bebop in water, seeming to slide softly like the whole motion was natural. At least she didn't break her jaw on impact, but still, it did little to comfort Jet at what he saw.

And then something happened inside Jets head. The line that cops always saw, the long line from birth to death that twisted this way and that on its long journey, disappeared as it became irrelevant. Hate like raw fire quelled up through his gut as blood leaked out around Faye's side. The line meant nothing right now, he was as good as dead anyway and it wasn't just that thought, it wasn't just seeing his comrade get her guts blown out, it was the sheer evil of anyone who could bring themselves to shoot a girl. Hell, not just a girl -albeit an uncouth one- but a pretty girl who's unarmed with her back to you. That was just…it was _fucked_ up there were no other words for it.

Right then, all he could think of was killing. A bad move to make with a gun at his head, but dammit, sometimes the wrong move wasn't just the only move, it was the right move. Like a runaway train on a broken track or a ticker on a bomb that can't turn back, something inside Jet Black's body and mind snapped. He jumped back to his feet so quick he almost went airborne, his cybernetic fist clenched like a sledgehammer.

Reggie Kinsman's problems were over in two seconds flat as Jet ended his joke of an existence in an explosive blast of brain and bone amidst a bloody slurry. The metal fist connected so hard with his face the bastard's gawking expression wasn't even left of him, just a mess of exploded face.

Next came his closest body guard, gripped around the neck and turned back toward Tanaka and his boys. The slug had about enough time to shit his pants before his boss put five bullets in him. But after that it was over for Jet. The sixth bullet sank into his uninjured leg, adrenaline flowed out of him in rivers and the pain in his week old injury came in on the tidal wave of fresh pain.

"That was entertaining," Tanaka said, without an ounce of care for his dead comrades.

Jet opened his arms downwardly, blood and ichors dripping off his fist in thick globules and painting the concrete. Tanaka shook his head and stayed his men's fire with the wave of a hand, "No no, officer Black. It won't be that easy. Enjoy a few moments of watching that whore die…"

The ticker still wasn't turning back, still counting down. Slowly.

"You've just earned your self a place at the side of Spiegel. I'm pretty sure our," making air quotes, "Interrogators will be happy to have another guest,"

What happened next was like the poison cherry on a stale cake--the sound of the lift cage opening again. Jesus, who else was going to come to this party? Spike, Musashii and Jet had all moved toward Faye by then, the syndicate boys seeming to enjoy the sight of their grievance. Jet slumped down beside her and rolled her over onto her back, supporting her head with his human hand.

"She dead yet?" a mobster laughed, "Maybe we got a few seconds for some in-out with her,"

Spike shot him a futile, hate filled glance. Musahsii was already taking off his robed shirt and bundling it up. But for a moment, they all stopped, almost forgetting about poor pallid Faye. The new party guest had arrived and he wore the look of a murderer who hadn't quite sated his thirst for blood. The long _Red_-_Dragons_ coat he wore was open down the front, laced with gold and silver decorations, the break in its sovereignty was the bullet hole in the upper left breast. His torso was bear but for white cotton bandaging, sealing up a gun shot wound. A scabbard filled with a well used sword was in one hand. Vicious.

He stopped, standing fast on the huge circular stain glass window set directly into the centre of the roof, depicting an angel with spread wings. So thick it would take a few grenades to get through, strong enough to support the weight of a freight-hopper. He stood, devil over angel, with his angular emotionless stone face. Silver-white locks of hair curtaining him down to the shoulders.

Tanaka had turned toward his lord Vicious, but by then Jet had stopped paying attention. Spike was fixed good, but Musashii had only taken passing interest, his doctorial skills had taken hold of him again. Thank god for small miracles, Jet thought, as Musashii busily wrapped his robe around those wood soled sandals he wore--at least they were good for something.

How Jet wished for that ability, to just ignore what was going on, the big threat, but it was ISSP training that told him to keep his eyes on vicious and the horrible ways the line could bend now he was here. But all the while his mind was screaming to help Faye, what ever the hell he could do to help, just damn well do it.

It was Musashii who snapped him out of that, offering him the robe and sandal compress, ignoring his naked upper torso being bitten by the cold. Musashii took Faye's scarlet jacket and bundled it up under her head as a makeshift pillow, that Jet gently lowered her onto.

Musashii said in a firm and calm as a summer breeze voice, "Jet-san, keep pressure on, firm but not too hard." Then he turned to Faye and looked her right in the clouding sleepy eyes, they blinked a lot and her mouth was working to roll in thick heavy gulps of air. He said to her, in the same tone, "Lady Faye, listen to my voice, you have to try and stay conscious. Understand," Musashii had never sounded more like a responsible adult in his entire life. He was wasted as anything but a doctor, Jet thought.

Vicious smirked as he walked across toward them. Jet still had his gaze fixed on him as he pressed down of Faye's crying tummy with the bandage and sandal. Spike didn't even notice as Musahsii unwrapped the trench coat from around him. He was stuck, fixed like a stone statue. A dead man seeing another dead man come right toward him.

"L-lord Vicious," Tanaka said, "You are awake?"

Vicious stopped behind Tanaka, like a faithful bodyguard behind his out-front master and said in a quiet voice, that could be heard as clear as a mountaintop shout, "Yes Tanaka. And I thank you for bringing me here, despite my regrettable unconscious state," the faintest hint of a smile came to his lips, a sinister one, "Do you know how it feels to die?"

Spike stepped forward to answer that, who else could the question be for, but he didn't get chance to answer as Vicious continued, "To die as a swine," his voice was barely more than a growl, like a dog right before it went berserk and bit its owner, buying itself a shotgun dinner, "I saw a man charge into the face of death with nothing but murder on his mind," he smiled at Spike then, more of an impressed smile. Just from the look of Vicious, Jet knew that was a rare outing for the guy. Then looking back at Tanaka, the Dragon said, "That is the old way, the way he," pointing at Spike, "and I grew up with."

Tanaka almost feinted, his knees wobbling like jelly as Vicious said, "You Ito Tanaka, skulk around trying to rule the Dragons with such underhanded games. The only way the Dragons can rule is with fear and violence. You think just as the Elders did. You're way is the way of filthy swine, having everyone else do the job for you and feasting on what's poured into the trough,"

Vicious opened his arms to the heavens and turned a stone look across the shocked foot soldiers. Some had unconsciously turned their guns on him, others were clearly thinking about it and a few were still stuck slack jawed as though they hadn't realised it was Vicious yet. Then popping the seal between scabbard and hand guard he said, "Listen to the animals sing,"

Form below the sound of _Gotta Knock A Little Harder _drifted up form YK and her admiring audience. Jet didn't know when that had started but he didn't care anymore. He only cared about helping Musashii wrap Faye's abdomen in the trench coat, tightening it over the sandal-robe compress in a bandage like way. Jet placed his palm over the coat and pressed through it onto the sandal as per Musashii's instructions.

Vicious held his face stone now, a permanent look of contempt held there beneath steel blue eyes. No, Jet thought, not steel blue, more like the blue deep down in a glacier. The most dangerous blue. His silver hair wavered in a momentary wind as Tanaka, jaw dropped, trembled where he stood, trying desperately to find some words.

Vicious spoke first, "Can you hear them Tanaka?"

"H-h-hear what?"

"The slaughterhouse bells,"

Jet smiled, in the last few seconds of Ito Tanaka's existence. He wasn't a sadistic man and it had been a long time since the Black Dog believed in the guns 'n' glory philosophy of the ISSP assault units. But seeing the Dragon who called himself Vicious smash the point of his katana straight up through Tanaka's chest was worthy of a smile.

The silver blade punched out through bone and gristle like smashing through soft rubber. Steaming blood and wet chunks of organ meat slapped to the floor. A moment later Vicious sword slid out of Tanaka's body, slick with blood and moving smooth as through hot butter.

Tanaka's men, the ones now wearing stupid facial expressions with guns shaking in their hands- turned on vicious, full of panic and probably not even quite sure what they were doing. Before any of them could let those little light bulbs spark inside their heads it was too late.

Vicious leapt like his body was entirely fluid, making contact only when needed and defying nature the rest of the way. His black boot pushed off of Tanaka and he spun into the air, backward somersaulting until he was nothing but a blur of black cloth and silver. The two snipers died together near the back end of the roof. Their breach loaders involuntarily snapped off shots skyward as Vicious slammed his katana blade through the back of ones head, obliterating his left eyeball in a torrent of sickly ichors. The other sniper had enough time to cry out half a startled gasp before his head bounced across the roof in a bleeding torrent of smoky blood about three seconds before his body tumbled over.

The runaway train in Jets head was nearing the end of the line. Jet's line. In a hazed moment while Musashii continued to baby sit Faye under the tear shedding sky, Jet left her. Musashii looked concerned and Faye made a quiet guttural noise. Spike was still enamoured by Vicious and the perplexing memory that crossed the lines in his brain, making him call Faye Julia. Jet wasn't any more aware of what was going on, it was in a dream that he saw himself pick up the Glock thirty and put six or seven bullets into the two closest mobsters, blowing their chests outward into pig slurry. The slide locked back, the breach belching smoke, singeing Jets nostrils and then he saw himself -still in some hazy dream- walk back to Faye and kneel beside her, smothing her hair away from her eyes.

The other mobsters were too busy rattling off all the bullets they could at Vicious, but he was inhuman to these mere mortals. Predicting their every move he sidestepped and jumped and rolled, letting bullets scream past him and smack into other mobsters. He sliced another in two with enough force to send the two halves of his body, slit form crown to crotch, blasting across the opera house roof. By the time he was done the roof was caked in steaming blood and limbs with mulched up organ meat quivering in the rain. The smell, _Christ_, Jet didn't think he could ever smell anything so bad. He'd been to blood baths before. He remembered one sick bastard from his ISSP days who had his own abattoir-come-kitchen. The smell there had been more bearable than this fresh carnage.

Jet took his mind off it, looking down into Faye's eyes, they were hot with tears, the kind of tears when something was burning at your senses the way the bloodbath here did.

"Whats' happening?" she said wearily.

"Shut up Faye, don't waste your energy talking," Jet smoothed his non-bloody hand through her rain and sweat streaked hair.

Musahsii shuffled over to Faye's head side, the rain streaking his exposed torso with cold water, he didn't even seem to notice. His face was stern and set to the task at hand like a true doctor. He checked Faye's airways and adjusted Jets hands to compensate, making sure he held her with the most effective possible angle.

"Keep talking to her, and try to keep her eyes focused," he said.

"Uh, Spike?" Faye said, reaching a hand up toward Musashii's upturned nose and pointed jaw.

Taking her hand and placing it back at her side, he said, "Its me lady Faye, try not to speak or move. We will get the ambulance here shortly," Then looking back at Jet he said, "keep pressure on the wound. I can't say for sure but it might be a lucky one,"

"And if it isn't?"

"Well, all I can say is she might only have seconds, she might have minutes, maybe if she's very very lucky, she'll have an hour" he sounded so much like a doctor then Jet imagined him in a white coat with stethoscope around his neck. Then he stood and scuffled to the entranced Spike's side. The lunkhead's jaw kept moving as he stared at Vicious, now staring right back at him.

"Musashii what are you doing?" Jet said as he constantly changed his glance between Faye and his other two comrades.

"I will defend Spiegel-san to the end if that is the way it must be,"

That seemed to snap Spike out of it as his shaved head shook wildly and his head snapped around all the corpses then to Vicious, Musashii, Faye and Jet.

"Faye?" he mumbled sounding confused, "Jet, Andy, what the hell just happened,"

Jet felt the urge to wring spikes neck then, how could the selfish son of a bitch choose then to have a little black out. Spike locked eyes with him for a moment, as though suddenly realising it himself, unbelieving of what had just happened around him.

His instincts were back now though as he spun sideways and rolled across a pistol, folding it up into his hands. But there hadn't been any need to. Samurai Musashii was already there to save him as Vicious lunged for a quick kill. Before the Dragon's katana could even get close to Spike, Musahsii popped the seal on his scabbard and the shorter Wakazashi was backward-blade in one hand. His fluid blurring body shimmered to one knee and cought up the sword, locking guard to guard with Vicious as the two locked eyes.

"So, boy, you want a sword fight," Vicious grinned maliciously.

"You'd be wise not to underestimate me,"

"Andy you idiot, he'll kill you!" Spike screamed as he primed the pistol he'd grabbed.

"Jet…Jet," Faye's voice seemed to come from far away, as though rolling over vast empty sand dunes and making its way to Jet courtesy only of a gentle breeze. Then, she said something that echoed every thought in Jets mind, made him think of how thin the line was getting, how short it was and before long there'd be nothing for anyone to stand on. Faye murmured, "I'm dying Jet,"

_Suck it up Black Dog. Are you a cop or a coward? Do what has to be done._

All that could be done was to tell Faye, "Shut up. It'd take more than a gun shot wound to kill you. Hell look at what spike lived through,"

She smiled weakly, in Spikes direction as the lunkhead tried to get a clear shot at Vicious. He did once or twice but the bullets were sent pinging through the air. Then, smiling up at Jet she said, "You never could lie,"

Jet couldn't help but smirk back at her, "you ain't dying, who's gonna take off with all the money in the Bebop's safe, or swipe bounties from under my nose if you die?" he didn't even buy the lies he was selling by then.

Before either of them could do anything, before Jet would finally remember about the vid phone in his pocket minutes later, Musashii and Vicious really began to fight.

The clatter of metal blades striking each other rung through the rain and music like a symphony of steel hell.

_**The more that I knocked**_

_**The hotter I got**_

Vicious came in, holding his blade in two hands with delicate swipes at Musashii, locking up with the wakazashii and katana blades, squealing and screaming as the blades slid each others length. Musashii countered, pirouetting around Vicious and bringing his katana horizontal to decapitate. The katana was in the way as vicious brought it up, in a reverse grip, a shower of bright orange sparks thundered to the ground. Musashii went in with his wakazashii, going for the gut but Vicious had the strength. Forced the two katana swords down and locked them with the wakazashii in a piercing scream.

_**The hotter I got**_

_**The harder I'd knock**_

The two burst apart for a fraction of a moment, grunting and growling as Spike fired a shot at vicious. Somehow, predicating it, he side stepped the shot and dived back at Musashii. The two bounced back and forth on each others blades, feet moving in rhythm as first Vicious went on the offensive, his katana sweeping and slashing so quick that Musashii's two swords moved like shimmering blurs of silver lightning, clattering and sparking the katana away. Then it would be Musashii's turn, to attack, spinning past Vicious and using his two swords to deadly effect. The Wakazasii brought home feints that had Vicious within a handbreadth of being slice apart. But somehow, like the phoney psychic who gets It right, he managed to block and parry every single strike.

_**I just gotta break through the door**_

As Musashii drove in with a flurry of silver steel, Vicious backed up close to one of the corner spires. Jet gritted his teeth, stuck in the lightshow of sparks and silver instead of tending the more important. It would be over soon though, Musashii was a hell of a swordsman, seemingly more than Vicious had even expected. The moment the Dragons back hit that Spire, it was all over.

_**Gotta knock a little harder**_

Only it wasn't. Vicious backward somersaulted, landing four or five feet above Musashii and slamming his katana into the concrete, hard enough to let him balance leaning out over Musashii. The rain drizzling from his silver hair and his un emotionless yet cruel mocking face said it all. Convinced Musashii was out of his league, Jet began to feel that bomb timer in his head again, that runaway train taking him down the line faster than he'd liked.

_**Gotta knock a little harder**_

Vicious leapt out over Musashii, his katana dragging through the air that forced Musashii into a back roll, impressively quick to avoid Vicious sword. The two of them came up, eye to eye, Vicious on the attack and forcing Musashii backward onto the huge stain glass window. The angel upon it watched the two fight, back and forth like men possessed by the spirit of war and lust of death.

_**Gotta knock a little harder**_

Musashii brought in an over handed strike with the wakazashii, going to punch through Vicious skull. Orange starburst of sparks and Vicious spun away on one heel, his black coat in a flurry behind him. He gave respite for only a second, his glacier eyes looking toward the bullet wound in his chest. Then they were lunging back at each other. Swords clattering and scraping as Musahii came in strong, side rolled and…

_**Break through the door**_

…caught Vicious across the gut with his wakazashii. A rake of crimson spilling out in the rain as two katanas and a wakasashii became locked together in the pattern only a kaleidoscope could hope to make. Vicious face was taut with pain but burning with fury as he glowered into Musashii's face.

"I underestimated you,"

"And that is why I will kill you, for the honour of-"

"Idiot," Vicious snarled.

The rain thundered down on the two of them as they stood at the centre of that angel window, and then Vicious head snapped back like a piston, came back with battering ram force and smashed right into Musashii's nose, bursting it on his face like a ripe boil. Vicious katana slid across the other two blades, slipped out of lock and cleaved through Musashii's left hand in a waterfall of scarlet rain. Before Msuahsii could even scream, his wakazashii and hand thumped down in a bloody mess. Vicious reversed his grip and smashed his blade through Musashii's chest. Smoking blood rose from the silver as it exited him and then withdrew with the snap of a wrist. Musashii stumbled back a a few steps, his mouth drawing in all the air it could with hot heavy gulps, his exposed torso spattered with streaks of sizzling blood as he bowled over onto his back.

* * *

Wow, Faye's on her death bed, what a good doctor Musashii turned out to be. At least Kinsman got what was coming to him, right? And now Vicious, making impressively short work of his comrades, despite the bullet in his chest! And despite his best efforts Musashii couldn't quite break through the door. But hell, if you gotta go, go with a bang! 

Next chapter: Now, The Opera House Roof


	16. Now, The opera house roof

First off, thanks to all of you who've read, reviewed or just idly thought, "hmm this doesn't entirely suck," seriously its great to get such a welcoming response for my first story.

Second of all, there's two more short chapters after this one before we find out how this last battle turns out and maybe some epilogue.

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**Now, The Opera House Roof**

Dreams were funny things. Everyone had them, the one thing absolutely no human could ever deny is that they dream. And they all people dreamed about the same things too, love, money, friends and family, good times and bad times. Some people dreamt of revenge and others of wicked acts.

Spike Spiegel had dreamt them all, suffered the trespass of nightmares and the joys of fantasy. He never stopped dreaming, in fact, lived in his dreams as a kind of permanent waking sleep walker. And now he watched the dream of all dreams, the nightmare in which one has to watch themselves die. He watched his hand get taken away in rivers of bloody gore and then, slowly, like a cushion of air was taking him down gently, he watched himself arc over backwards and land with a heavy thud in the arms of a stain glass angel. He saw his organs trying to escape through the ruin that had been his chest. Spike Spiegel was dying in gasps of thick sweaty air.

Reality reminded him what he was really looking at. Andy. Cowboy Andy, Smaurai Musashii and the Dragon: Vicious, leaping back with his coat spread like a bat from hell's wings. Vicious had killed Andy, not Spike, killed the stupid horse riding punk who'd screwed up a bounty some time back and helped Jet Black find him. Spike didn't even know what he was doing as his feet smacked on the rain slicked roof under him. Inside of seconds he was at the dying mans side. Vicious watched cruelly, waiting like a murderer waits for the perfect moment to take his next victim.

"Spiegel-san," blood drizzled out of Andy…no, _Musashii__'__s_ lips.

Spike's intuitiveness evaded him, he'd come to the point of no return and realised he wasn't a doctor like Musashii had revealed himself to be, "Dammit, Musashii what the hell did you do that for?"

"It is an honour, to die defending my master,"

"I'm not your master you idiot," desperation in his voice as he saw Andy's dream of life coming to an end right in front of him, "I never even taught you anything…I don't even know how to use a sword, dammit Musashii,"

"Call me, doctor Andy…and tell Jet," he smiled weakly, almost laughing as blood bubbled out of his mouth, "tell Jet I finally figured out how to be my own person," his eyes glinted with the clarity of a man reflecting on everything he'd lived through up to this point and accepting his lot. Having no regrets and truly understanding everything. The way Spike had understood his death would save lives, keep Jet and Faye safe. Now Faye had a bullet through her and was dying if not dead. And doctor Andy was on his way to the long dream too.

"I will, Doctor Andy, I will,"

Then with one final groan, Andy closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Inside his mind, Spike felt himself splitting, like a tree branch that had taken all the wind it could and had no choice but to break off into the hurricane's fury.

The nine millimetre in his hand barked three times at Vicious and then the slide locked back. Each bullet sailed past its target and sunk into concrete or sailed into darkness; Spike tossed aside the spent gun. Grabbed Andy's katana, still warm and splattered with blood.

"You see Spike, you can't save anyone, not even yourself," Vicious mocked in that gravely tone that never seemed to raise above a whisper but held the force of a shout, feeling like it started inside your head and came out through your ears.

"Lets finish this. Again, Vicious," Spike said, feeling dejavu, "And this time, lets make sure it is the end,"

"As you wish,"

Spike charged, his battered body slowing him like a sluggish parody of his usual agile self. He felt pain stinging through all his wounds, even the newest of them, the one that made Faye Valentines feelings absolutely crystal clear. Only she could tell a man how much she cared by trying to kill him. Spike felt the gentle smile on his lips as the blurred image of vicious got closer.

He swung the katana, ruggedly following through deep enough to almost send himself to the floor. Vicious sidestepped it easily and twisted his own katana sending a spray of sparks between the two blades. Spike, one hand on his aching stomach, back-slashed at Vicious, again with little if any talent and again Vicious played him like a fool, misdirecting Spike's sword this time and going for a thrust at the gut. Spike barely managed to deflect him in time, the blades slipping down each other and locking at the guards. Vicious' colder than cold eyes locked with Spikes making him feel a blend of hate and disgust.

"This time, I'll make sure you don't come back," Spike spat in vicious eye but the silver haired psychopath didn't even flinch.

"And Julia will still be dead,"

The words hit Spike in the stomach like a battering ram. Doves and hard white light sailed past his vision as platinum hair and cream skin, soft voice and crystal eyes all faded away like mist in the rain.

The effort it took to shove Vicious away was almost enough to make Spike pass out as some of his fresher and deeper wounds began to bleed again. The base of his neck felt wet from Faye's idea of an _I__'__m-glad-you__'__re-alive-kiss_. It wasn't helping things a single bit as pain arced through it, down his arm and making him almost drop the sword.

"You never did care for her. Just treat her like a toy,"

"So,"

"So, that's why she left you," Spike said as he struggled to deflect another strike. Then, face to face in guard-lock again, through gritted teeth he said, "You just wanted her to be yours, like a caged bird. And when she found something real," paused to look the Dragon dead in the eye, searching for the soul that -if vicious ever had one- was pushed all the way down into the dark recesses of his body, cased up in an icy prison of violence and hatred. Finally Spike added, "You couldn't take it could you, couldn't accept that your best friend could do more for her than you. You're just a child at heart, a spoilt one and if you couldn't have her then no one could."

Vicious face faltered for the briefest of moment, though only a man who knew him as well as Spike did would have even noticed that something somewhere inside hit a nerve. Then Vicious growled in that inhuman voice of his, "You're just a fool spike. Too afraid to do the things that have to be done. That's why you ran instead of killing me,"

"I ran because I didn't need your kind anymore, I had Julia, I had what I needed," The two swords began slipping up and down each other now as each man battled for the upper hand.

"Living on the run, like a dog,"

"There was no other choice,"

"Mao Yenrai disagreed, before I killed him. He always was weak, him and Anastasia both,"

The last fragment of self control in Spike's mind snapped and with all the strength he had; swung his arms upward, whirled around with an outstretched lanky leg and kicked Vicious straight in his wounded abdomen. Vicious skidded away from him, falling into a crouch and clutching his injury with one hand, a fractal of pain permeating his stone cut face.

Pointing the blade of Andy's katana at vicious, Spike shook his head slowly, disdainfully and said, "Only two people cold ever call Annie that. Neither of us are one of them."

Spike charged at Vicious then, katana held aloft and ready to bring down a strike that would cleave vicious into two saggy lumps of meat. Vicious own blade flicked out, poised like a pike-man preparing for a horse charge, ready for the over zealous Spike Spiegel -thinking only of Julia, Faye, Andy, Mao and Annie and all the other things that Vicious had destroyed- to skewer himself through the heart like an idiot.

Spike never made it, the raking rattle of machine gun fire cut him off.

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A/N: I know, I know I'm an utter bastard, I killed Andy in a pretty corny way but he was never the most serious character, right? Anyway, it looks like Spike learned a little something about himself in this chapter and Andy finally figured himself out. Now its just a matter of surviving Vicious' killing spree, keep reading to find out… 

Next chapter: Heaven Can Wait

(sorry for all the chapters named after Meatloaf songs)


	17. Heaven Can Wait

**Chapter 14: Heaven Can Wait**

Jet watched that line zigzag back and forth, neither Vicious or Spike quite loosing balance on its needle wide surface. But it wouldn't be long before they twisted into each other making a cross section of lines that would have only one result. Death. Spike's death most probably. Jet watched his friend loosing any real control from some near silent words Vicious was whispering to him.

Faye's soft hair slipped out of his hands as Jet lay her gently on the balled up scarlet jacket.

"Ugh, Jet don't leave me. I don't wanna die alone,"

Jet, who had already started to move toward the duel, turned back to Faye and knelt beside her for a moment longer.

"You ain't dying Faye. Don't you dare quit breathing on us," he searched for more encouragement--found it, "You still gotta tell spike how you feel,"

Her pallid face didn't look like it cared anymore, more like she just wanted someone to squeeze her hand and stroke her hair until she slipped off the line and into the abyss. But Jet couldn't stay, couldn't give her what she wanted right then and his brain was calling him a slime bag for it but sometimes a man had to be a slime bag to do the right thing.

He turned from her, ignoring the murmuring complaint she made as he moved toward the two large exhaust fans. The two mobsters he'd wasted lay at his feet in broken pieces of former human, claret pools bathing their blueing corpses and lapping at the AK (20)47's they'd been carrying.

Spike and Vicious ducked back and forth as Jet picked up the machine gun. Their blade guards locked and then Spike lost it, shoving vicious so hard the silver haired embodiment of violence skidded back onto his knees. The two of them were high above the devils den, walking the line, either one of them prime to get burnt.

Spike charged Vicious like a fool. He was about to get impaled but he either didn't care or didn't notice. He was making the wrong move with that metaphorical gun pointed at his head, he was about to slip off the line and be left for dead. Unless Jet stopped it.

The ticking time bomb in Jet's head exploded blasting his sanity into a million cerebral fragments. The train derailed itself and smashed into a twisting scream of mental carnage. The lines that kept Jet Black straight as an arrow fell away into the blackness. Nothing but vengeance, hate and disgust were left now.

The AK bucked at his hip as Jet ran forward firing, his cybernetic arm keeping it aimed as best as possible. The bullets raked up and down the big stain glass image of an angel, kicking up chips of thick glass and sending both Spike and Vicious diving away from each other. Poor Musashii couldn't dive away as two or three stray bullets punched into his corpse and kicked up gouts of blood. At least he wasn't around to be bothered by it anymore.

Jet angled himself toward Vicious, the machine gun never stopping and feet never slowing as Vicious desperately tried to evade the shots. A single bullet ripped through his long coat and skimmed down his hip in a bloody ream. Jet hadn't even realised how loud he was screaming, so loud he couldn't hear YK taking a back seat while one of her bys sang _Don__'__t_ _Bother_ _None_.

Finally he came within point-blank distance of Vicious, about ten feet between them and the AK ran dry, coughing up the last of its smoking cartridges and stuttering as it failed to breach anymore rounds. Thirty bullets and only one had hit the mark, Jet felt like an idiot but it didn't stop him stampeding toward Vicious with the AK raised like a club. He heard someone call his name from somewhere but paid it no attention as he made a swing for Vicious head. He missed as a streak of silver hair whipped through his vision, a matching katana sword whipped up and cleaved the AK into two halves with so much force it threw Jet heels over head with a smoking gun-half in each hand.

"A noble try, detective Black,"

"I haven't been a detective for nearly four years now," Jet said, hauling himself back up and charging again, this time his metallic arm raised, still drippy with Kinsman's sticky dark blood.

"Jet!" Spike was calling again as he ran to Jet's aid with katana in hand.

Jet was with Vicious long before Spike would reach them, long enough to bring in a whacking great thump that would have decapitated vicious. He never landed it though as a streak of silver cut Jets vision in the reflected glisten of Saturn's light. There was the screech of metal punching into metal and twisting components, sparking wires and electrical short outs. When Jet's eyes blinked back open he saw the blood smeared silver sword sticking out through his dull coloured robotic arm. The forearm of it sparked like firefly's dancing around the sword and snakes hissing from inside the split electrical cables. The hand was useless, the fingers twitching spasmodically.

Vicious smiled that cold hate filled smile, the smile he'd given Musashii right before he killed him along with Tanaka and the other Dragons.

"You're cornered Black Dog," he said pulling at the blade.

But it didn't come free. Jet twisted his elbow, Vicious still holding his sword, jerked up toward Jets rock hard face. Their eyes meeting, both cold as winter rain, the smell of sweat and blood and tears and hate rank in the air causing it to simmer. Jet caught the hidden panic behind Vicious eyes and said, "A cornered dog is far more deadly than a breathless Dragon,"

Then with all the force he had in him he began pistoning his free hand into Vicious face like a sledgehammer of meat and bone. Vicious nose snapped and buckled on the third punch, gouts of blood flooding his face as Jet kept punching. Eventually he felt his own knuckles begin to crack under the beating. But before he could leave vicious as nothing more than a messy slurry of brain and bone on the angel glass, something struck him with the force of cannon ball, right between the legs and making his balls feel like jelly. Jet pitched backward with a howl and slammed onto his back, the katana still stuck in his arm. Vicious brought his knee back down and jumped to his feet. Blood streaking his silver hair and welling up all over his smashed face.

The katana still rammed through Jets arm came within a hands breadth of slipping into him when he hit the ground. But he got lucky, managed to land flat-back on his line and stay alive. He watched as the Dragon, probably sneering beneath all that blood and bruising, stalked toward him.

Then, suddenly he ducked sideways as Spike leapt through Jets vision, coming so close with Musashii's katana to decapitating Vicious the air trembled with anticipation.

"Today's your lucky day," Vicious snarled through battered lips. Tapped something that looked like a jewel on his coat and turned away from them. Then, breaking into a full on sprint he made for the edge of the Opera House and…

…Leapt over the edge, arms spread like a human crucifix as he went over the edge. The roar of jet thrusters and the spooling of turbines shuddered, drowning out the end of _Don__'__t Bother None, _as a stolen ISSP cruiser ascended in front of them. Vicious was crouched on the roof while a mobster, perhaps one of the few Vicious didn't think unworthy of being a Dragon, piloted from behind foggy glass.

Vicious gave Spike one last look and said, "Its not over yet, Spike. Just remember I'm the only one who can kill you,"

"Not over," Spike echoed, "Until next time," he said as the cruiser rolled around on a cushion of air and rocketed off into the dark sky.

Jet growled as he climbed back up with Spike helping him pull Vicious sword free, Spike held It a moment, looking deeply at it like it had fallen from some other dimension and needed to be rid of. Then Jet felt punch of hatred dimming into the despair that waited below as memory and sanity ebbed back into his mind. Faye.

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A/N: Well, it looks like Jet's the hero in this one, Faye and Spike were always hogging all the glory, Jet deserved a chance to kick some arse. And arse he did kick. I entertained the idea of killing vicious but ultimately decided that was something only Spike could do. Anyway, thirty thousand words more than originally planned and almost a hundred pages of Bebop later we have one more chapter to go. Feel free to leave your thoughts, likes, hates etc…

Next (and last) Chapter: Its All Coming Back To Me Now


	18. Its All Coming Back To Me Now

**Chapter 15: **

**Its All Coming Back To Me Now**

_Someone's pulling me close to the ground._

"Faye! Faye can you hear me? Open your eyes,"

Someone was calling her, but her eyes weren't ready to open just yet. It was too bright, the light was pounding through her lids like florescent tubes, held bare inches from her face and she still felt light headed. Had she been drinking last night? Probably, her guts felt like fire and her mouth was dry, not to mention someone was thumping at the backdoor of her brain.

Slowly, she peeled open her eyes as everything flooded back to her. _Oh_ _yeah_. She'd been shot. _Great why couldn__'__t it be the drink?_ She remembered why her guts felt like fire and the wet feeling, seeping across her belly under something stretched almost painfully tight. But there was the hard light, she thought for sure she was waking up in hospital with a handsome doctor looking down at her.

The rain beads pattered on her forehead and followed the contours of her face, like snow tumbling down a mountains, drizzling down from the peak of her nose into her eyes and running like tears down her cheeks. Above her was the ugly mug of Jet Black and the slightly less ugly mug of Spike Spiegel. They both blocked out her vision of the starlit backdrop overhead but it didn't matter all that much.

"Oh, hi guys," she managed in a voice she could barely even hear herself.

"Be quiet Faye," Spike said, leaning closer to her.

She reached up for him, not quite sure why or what for, she could just see her own hands drifting up like smoky pillars of white silk skin toward Spike's gritty face, fingers stretching and caressing the air in front of him.

A craving for nicotine bubbled through her suddenly.

"Everything's gonna be fine Faye," Jet said from behind that stupid thick beard, "Just hold on a little longer,"

There was so much she wanted to say to Spike, and to Jet. To tell Jet how great it had been to ride on the Bebop and that his bell peppers and beef wasn't really all that bad--when there was beef in it leastways. But those thoughts seemed so far away now, like trying to keep hold of a dream in the moments after waking up where it inevitably slips through your fingers like foggy mist. She felt the rain building up on her brow, weighing her eyelids down and streaking her hair.

Men were fascinating creatures, really. Faye had never given them much time -if any- but it seemed in the face of death perspective changed somewhat. One minute men were all violent lunkheads, horsing around and cocking up bounties, trying to play it off like a joke as though they hadn't just lost sixty million woolongs of bounty. And the next minute they'd be prattling on about engine grease and hard work and a man's duty to sweat and toil. But then, every once in a while -and this was the first of those while's that Faye could admit to experiencing- they did something that really did knock off your little white boots.

Spike kindly brushed one of her bangs away from her face and wiped some of the rain water from her skin. She could see Jet, sparking under the crying sky, his arm shooting off orange and yellow starbursts from a hole in his arm. _Fireworks for the send off_. She told him way back that it needed fixing, and now it looked like his arm had finally gone and blown up. She smiled, or she tried to, and wasn't quite sure whether her lips made it all the way there or not.

She felt the rough, scouring pad hand of Jet black envelope hers making it feel tiny, Spike's smother slender hand took her other, warming it like a glove. She looked up at them weakly, hoping to whatever deities might be that it was rainwater down the side of her face and not a tear.

She felt warmth as the two boys looked down at her. Because that was another thing about men, in just a fraction of a moment, with just the tiniest exchange of glances or words they would go from big clumsy heaving galoots to shy caring little boys with their attention focused entirely on you. And only you. Faye used as much energy as she could to squeeze their hands back, just doing it made her arms tingle.

From below, in the opera house that would be her place of rest, she could hear one of YK's male singers standing in while she took a break. _No_ _Reply_, that was what the song was called. Funny, how a simple song could sum up all those difficult emotions and put them across in a conversation impossible to set about having. Although, Faye knew damn well she was in no condition to hold anything that remotely resembled a conversation. She tried to smile again but felt only a weak cough come up with a bloody dribble from the corner of her mouth.

She spoke to him, Spike, with YK's voice: _**It won**__**'**__**t be too long. Till everything I**__**'**__**ve ruined has seen me gone.**_

And he spoke back to her, never moving his lips, looking only into her weak eyes: _**Now you know the man I am. Can you forgive me?**_

_**I fall…**_she struggled to hear what Yk was telling spike for her**_…At feet no longer there_**.

_**If only I could call the rain to melt and wash away the pain you feel I would**_

Faye smiled at him, feeling that rain he was giving her, letting it lap across her as YK gave him her reply:

_**You gave yourself to me and showed me what the truth could be**_

_**For that, I say thank you**_

She was so damn thankful, if only she could say it in her own voice.

_**It never made that much sense to me**_

Spike smirked, not that condescending smirk, but the ever-so rare smirk he made when something really hit home.

_**With every lie that I lived**_

_**Part of me would fade**_

The music gave her Spike's answer

_**Into this empty shadow I've become**_

_**And now I feel so numb**_

_**I no longer know myself**_

_**But I still know you.**_

Faye could feel it now, the cold working its way in through the corner of her stomach. The milky white light seeping into her vision, blurring Spike and Jet's face.

_**I close my eyes and watch as my life passes by**_

_**The only thing I see is you**_

_**For all the times you walked the line for me and standing by my side**_

_**I say thank you**_

She meant that for both Jet and Spike, they knew it. Rainwater dripped from their eyelids and stung her cheeks. Faye felt her lips begin to quiver in the cold.

Spike replied:

_**Here lies my life**_

_**It never felt that real to me**_

he leaned in as YK's boy sang, brushing a hand across Faye's fringe, keeping it from her face and making sure she could see they were there for her, until the end.

She wanted them both to know:

_**You'll always mean so much to me**_

_**You'll never know how much you meant to me**_

It was colder now, darker too as Jet and Spike began to fumble into cloudy dreams. She felt warmth only in her hands now. Jet Black's meaty paw keeping her left and Spike Spiegel, squeezing her right in its tender embrace as more raindrops pattered from his eyelids. She felt the warmth, felt it telling her the things she needed to hear.

Spike, or maybe both of them knew it, sang it for her:

_**You in my life**_

_**It all meant so much more to be.**_

At last realising her true home, her true place, as right here, wherever they were was where home was. It might not have been the nicest of circumstances but at last, at long last she belonged. And as the darkness took her, as her vision faded out and sound began to blot like ink on paper she managed that smile. She could dream now, no more nightmares, what had to be said had been sung for them and most importantly she belonged. Oh yes, she belonged.

** SEE YOU SPACE COWGIRL,**

** DREAM SWEETLY…**


	19. Aftermath

This aftermath is my 'little' tribute to Jet's summary at the end of 'boogie woogie fung shui'. Jet's so awesome at doing voice overs...must be the 'face for radio' thing.

Theres still another epliogue after this since this is just kind of a summary.

* * *

**Aftermath: The Black Dog Barks**

**Or**

**Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are**

Well, that's how this particular story came to an end.

Its like I said before, everything that has a beginning has an end. And even though we might not like those endings we have to accept them, it's all part of being a grown up.

So what happened after that? Spike was beat up pretty bad, truth is he should have still been in the hospital. It was lucky I had my vid phone to get the paramedics out there to the opera house. About a week went by before we were finally fit to make the trip back to mars. Andy spent the whole trip in a big cool-box that Spike sat with everyday. In fact, Andy always had a Bebopper by his side in the common room, we laid Faye out beside him for most of the journey, so even if Spike an I were busy he wasn't alone.

Seeing Andy die was a hard thing for all of us, because you see, seeing Andy die was like watching ourselves die. I had to watch as the kid who was trying to find himself died on that rooftop. He was a doctor at heart, that's where his skill had really been, I saw that in the way he took care of Faye in the middle of a war zone. But he wanted to be something else, the way I thought I could be anything other than a straight lace cop.

I realised it then, the whole time, the whole three years I spent trying to hunt bounty, thinking I was a rogue living the cowboy life--it was bullshit. That's why after a while I gave up the bounty hunting gig, couldn't hack it anymore, not by myself.

Well, I guess you've heard enough about the black dog for now. After all, I don't feel that important in the face of it all.

So, about Andy. When we handed him over to his parents at their ranch, it wasn't me or Spike who helped them through it, sure we gave our condolences, but it was Andy's golden moment that comforted his ma and pa. Faye, died on that rooftop just as the ambulance arrived. If there is a god, he has my eternal thanks for that defibrillator and a damn determined team of paramedics. If it wasn't for Andy, she'd have been too far gone to resuscitate.

Faye owed Andy big, she knew it, and for once wasn't afraid to show it, she must have told his parents that story a dozen or more times. But the big thing about Faye was when I watched her toss her Glock and MP5 over the edge of the Bebop. She hasn't touched a gun since. I guess the gunshot wound in her stomach gave her a new perspective on some parts of life…but not all.

So I thought it was all gonna go back to the way it had been, only one day, about a week after we buried Andy, Spike disappeared. Faye was still pretty weak from her injury -least that's the excuse she had for sleeping all the time- so she was asleep, and I'd promised to play a few horses at the race track for her. Of course I won because being a cop gives you a nose for a rigged race and which horse is rigged to win. But anyway, when I got back, the Swordfish was gone, so was a bunch of Spike's clothes and some weapons. Vicious' katana was gone too, no doubt in the hands of spike for some crazy honour quest. He didn't leave us any kind of note this time. When Faye found out, she cried some but she handled it far better than back when we thought he was dead.

But things started to really fall apart after that. Without Spike, I dunno, Faye and I were the same as we ever were but it felt more like we were just passengers on a boat instead of real comrades. So I wasn't surprised when Faye disappeared, I figured I'd find the safe empty and a note asking me not to come looking for her because she was searching for Spike.

Only what I found was much more horrifying. The Red-Tail was still in the dock and she'd gone into Tharsis alone. Well, before you know it I'm watching the news, thinking about what to do and the broadcaster tells me that the bounty head on Faye Valentine is called off because she just handed herself in. Four hundred million Woolongs, that's how much she owed and she was going to be in jail for about as many years too.

So I had to ask myself the million Woolong question…actually, the four hundred million Woolong question. What's more important, a comrade I've seen just about everything with, who died in my arms, or money. Money I didn't have.

I spent about a week thinking on it. You might think I'm a callous bastard for not springing Faye in a heartbeat, but where the hell was I gonna get four hundred million Woolongs from? and all the favours in the world wouldn't get the ISSP to let Faye's debt slide. So, yeah, I thought on it some and made up my mind. I was a bounty hunter, a solo act like in the old days. Just the way I used to say I wanted it. But when you've been on a ship as big as Bebop, with only three other passengers and a welsh corgi making as much a racket as they did, you start to realise just how alone you are. I must have made bell peppers and beef for four at least six times that week; said goodnight to people who weren't there and bought dog food I didn't need. I'd gone through about three bottles of bourbon when I accepted the inevitable answer to that question. Being alone, in that big silent ship, day after day just sat in the Tharsis dock. That was no life. So I made the stupidest decision I made since running down that alley and getting my left arm blown off. I bailed Faye out, and there was only one way I could ever do that. The Bebop went on the market, the Hammerhead went on the market, Jet Black's soul may as well have gone on that damn market.

I got some offers but the best I could get for Bebop herself was three hundred million. Christ, if only Spike had caught Vincent Volaju way back when, we'd have had three hundred mil. At that point I was about ready to give up. The Hammerhead would only get forty million tops, so I went to see Faye. Looking at her behind that bullet-proof glass in those prison overalls. She looked as though the fifty four years she'd spent in cryo had come back in the course of a month. When I told her I couldn't get the money, she didn't even seem to care, just looked down at her feet. I knew she was dying…whats that old saying, the evil calls when needs must, something like that anyway.

So eventually I decided I'd have to sell the Red-Tail too, even though it wasn't mine. The deal for the Bebop went through and the same guy tossed in fifty mil for the Red-Tail. My hammerhead was already long gone, I wanted to kill the guy I sold it to. Parts! That was what he wanted it for, a chop shop, my fucking zipper got butchered in a chop shop. I can't believe what the worlds coming too when people can't appreciate the classics.

I was cleaning out the Bebop and getting ready to say goodbye when I realised how stupid I'd been. The sheer amount of money I needed (and possibly all that bourbon and scotch) had made me forget all about the safe and my stash. I had thirty million in the safe and another twenty packed up under my collection of bonsai trees. Who says money doesn't grow on trees? And on top of that there was a nice surprise in the Red-Tails small stowage compartment. Ten Million Woolongs and a couple of bags full of Faye's stuff. Turned out I didn't need to sell the Red-Tail after all, but the deal was already finalised on paper. So I sold Faye's ship for no reason…I still haven't told her and I don't plan too either.

Anyway, when the big day came I was drunk out my face, it took two days for her release to go through and I'd made every effort to kill off the brain cells in my head that had anything to do with the Bebop. At least Faye was grateful, she found me at the end of a bar with enough whiskey in me to kill a horse, and I actually got a thank you that didn't sound forced. And then, something happened that I don't think I'll ever believe. I offered her twenty million of the fifty I had, I told her if she wanted to go looking for Spike that might buy her an old zip craft. She turned it down. At least I think she did, I was too drunk to remember, all I know is the next time I could see straight I was in some bed and breakfast, my head felt like it'd just gone a hundred rounds with Jupiter's red storm and I still had all fifty million Woolongs (well minus the cost of the room.) Over breakfast -which Faye had fetched- she told me she still owed me all that money so now she was still in debt. She sounded angry but her eyes, like a drunk promising not to beat his wife again, told me it was front. I don't think I'd ever seen her so happy, except maybe when we convinced ourselves Spike was alive.

So what happened after that was this, Faye dragged me to earth so we could go visit her old home and find out all we could about her past and blah blah blah, long story short, everything she knew, didn't matter all that much anymore, it all died half a century ago. It took her a while but she got it into her stubborn skull. Then she left it up to me what we'd do…I wish I'd had a camera to get that look on her face when I told her.

We went back to Ganymede, my old home, and I spent twenty million on a fishing boat. That's right, Jet Black and Faye Valentine became fishermen. And more than that too, I didn't really figure it out until it smacked me right in the mouth with a hot tongue, but sometimes, if you look hard enough, you can see things you never realised were there. If you'd asked me a year ago if Faye was anything more than a comrade, I'd have laughed myself to death…funny how things work out. But its like I said, the line is a funny thing, you can spend your whole life following it one way and before you know it you're going right back the way you came and then suddenly you're a fishermen again. Me and Faye, we must've spent days arguing over what to call that boat; Bebop. _No way Faye _is what I said to that, Bebop Two, Bebop Junior, The Spike, The Black Valentine (I actually liked that one). But in the end we settled on a name that meant a lot to both of us, a name that had kept us both alive for years. Yeah, we named our boat The Bell Peppers And Beef.

Anyway, we got used to the life pretty quick. Faye still gambled (like she was gonna stop just because of all the money she owed me) only now she actually listens to me occasionally, and wins. About the only big change was we quit smoking. I got sick of seeing Faye go through all that beauty treatment crap and then fill her lungs with poison. So I made her quit, don't get me wrong, people can do what they want but I hate people futilely wasting time with beauty treatment that won't help. Especially when that time waster should be catching fish.

I used an old ISSP tactic: a week locked in the boats cabin got her addicted to fresh air instead of nicotine, after that I just kept an eye on her, y'know, made sure she didn't fall off the wagon. And I quit too, well as far as she knows I did anyway. Difference is I don't go around trying to keep my good looks, they deserted me a long time back so why can't I enjoy a smoke? I still split one cigarette with Faye that we're okay with, that's when…well you can figure that out for yourself. But for the most part, we spend the day on the ships deck waiting for fish to bite and trawling with the net.

And that's when a ghost walked in. Spike, that damn slug, came right down the pier and hopped on board without so much as a phone call. Faye and me were still in the early days back then, so I don't think I'd have blamed her for running off with Spike. Of course he never asked her to and never really said much of anything. He just turned up with a package under his arm. I don't know how I looked when we opened it but Faye…well I expected her to kill spike when she saw those beady dark eyes looking up from that box.

A Ganymede rock lobster. Just like the one that had caused us all kind of problems way back when and nearly killed the three of us. We didn't eat it, we didn't get chance to since Faye freaked out and tossed it over the side, if she hadn't I think I might have, those damn dark eyes, its like they see into your soul and judge you.

After reminiscing some, we went to bed, Spike got some sleep on the couch in the dining cabin, he'd slept on that couch so damn much, the ugly old yellow one I took out of Bebop and put in storage right before I sold it. We woke up in the morning and he was gone again, no note or nothing. Faye spent the whole day moping around in hey pyjamas while I had to try and fill our quota.

He comes and visits us once every month or so, always brings a Ganymede rock lobster and never stays longer than one night. I guess that brings us onto Spike huh…

Christ, what can I say about Spike Spiegel, other than he's the best friend I ever had. Tell you the truth, Spike didn't die that day he went to fight the red dragons, but I don't think he was too expectant to make it back out and when he did…his line, like everyone's line when it doesn't go the way we plan, it got tangled and confusing. By living he'd made things a whole lot worse and since he lost Julia, he never seemed the same. He still doesn't, every time he comes to visit his eyes look a little duller, his voice sounds a little further away. He's dying, I just don't think his body knows it yet. Its so damn hard to look at him like that, like a car out of petrol with the driver still flooring the accelerator. I feel guilty just thinking this but, I wish Spike had died that day when he fought the Dragons. Its so damn painful just looking at him and I can't imagine how he's feeling. I just wish he could get the peace he wants, he's looking for it but I think it'll find him first.

I had a dream. In it, I'm on a life raft made of wood logs and rope. Faye is hanging off the back of the raft with her legs kicking and one arm holding the boat. She shouts at me to watch her swim as she shimmies around the raft and joyfully kicks her legs. She never lets go, always one hand safely on the raft. Spike is in the distance, lazily floating on his back with his feet paddling up and down, hands behind his head. Shark fins like out of some cheesy cartoon cut the water around him. Spike doesn't notice them, doesn't seem to care in the least as he swims around. I always wake up before the end.

There's not much else to tell but I guess I should say this: When I was in the ISSP they called me the Black Dog because once I got my teeth into something I never let go. That phrase has followed me around for a good number of years now. People still say it to me…Spike, whenever he comes and visits, Bob -my old buddy from the force- and Faye even says it to me when…well, there's another one I'll leave for you to figure out. The thing I keep wondering is: what if Spike comes back, decides its time to move on and he wants Faye Valentine. I still see that twinkle in her eyes, like someone's just buffed those emerald jewels to perfection. Christ, so what happens in that scenario, it hurts just thinking about it. This Black Dog's bitten Faye now and…well, I'd hate to have to fight for her, probably because I know I'd loose.

I had another dream last night. In it, Spike was dead, but it was alright.

**...TWO OUT OF THREE AIN'T BAD**

* * *

You actually thought I killed Faye...you sick bastards. Seriously, I couldn't kill Faye she's too stubborn to die. 

A/N: Before I discuss Faye and Jet I want to point out that while I had Spike survive in this story, its not my interpretation of Bebop's end. If Spike did survive…well you heard what Jet said. No matter how much people want him to fall in love with Faye, I don't think he'd let himself. I've always considered Spike a looser who somehow manages to be cool. Its best if he dies, he can be with Julia that way.

Anyway, this also links into why Faye and Jet make a better couple. Spike, for me, was what Faye wanted. Jet was what she needed. I'll cover them more at the end of the next epilogue. But for the moment, I'll point out that when Jet says "…you can see things you never thought were there…" I'm referencing a few plants in my story such as the way Jet holds her after she goes nuts. But these are also present in the series, here's my list of the main three that actually had me thinking Faye loved Jet. First, who lets Faye stay on the Bebop and why? Who rescues Faye from Gren (sort of) and of course, the first time we say Faye be anything like nice is when she tells jet his arm needs fixing (I think its in Blackdog Serenade).

Of course the common opinion is Faye and Spike are the lovers of the ship (which I have no problem with but I'll explain why I prefer Faye/Jet in the next epilogue.

Next Epilogue: Valentine's Day…


	20. Epilogue

Well this is it, this really is the last one. No more of this story after this one, so lets see what we can see.

(I was thinking of writing another story based around Jet's aftermath ie; Faye going to prison, Spike doing one, Jet selling the Bebop. Does that sound good or is it better to leave it un-dramatized?)**

* * *

**

**Epilogue: Valentines Day**

**OR**

**The Future Ain't What It Used To Be**

"Faye-Faye!"… "Faye!-Faye!"… "FAYE!-FAYE!"

"What! What is it Ed?"

The bright afternoon sun came down through the fluffy white clouds overhead. Faye had been watching them from under her dark sunglasses with enamour. One looked like a charging horse, another was a dog chasing a rabbit and another; a nice thick wad of Woolongs. And now they all looked like fluffy white blocks because of Ed's interrupting ignorance.

"Look Faye-Faye!"

The tanning lotion over Faye's silk flesh seemed to simmer, not from the warmth of the sun but from the blood turning hot in her arteries. All she wanted to do was get a quick tan in her favourite black and white bikini. Maintaining her satin skin meant tireless effort and hours lying on the deck of the_ Bell Peppers And Beef _with a sun umbrella propped up over her tanning bed. And that wasn't all, she was trying to work too, her fishing rod was rigged up to the alarm and ready to scream off at any minute. And Ed had decided to interrupt all this stressful work, for what?

She inclined her head, looking out across the open water between the two docks. Ed was running up and down the deck of her fathers fishing boat; _Earth__'__s Comet_. The girls arms outstretched as she imagined she was an aeroplane with a large fish clenched between her teeth. The line ran from the tip of an idle rod and the hook was still caught in the floundering flapping fish. Faye grimaced, feeling a shiver at the very thought of putting a fish in her mouth straight off the line.

They'd turned up about four months ago, Ed and her father and some other guy with them, a nerdy lanky guy called Macintosh or Mackavoy or something with an M in there. They'd finally given up on that foolish idea of remapping the earth. Faye would always deny that she cared about Ed being there or not, but then she always denied caring about Jet when that sensitive topic reared its head. But no matter what she thought, the hacker-girl could be so…annoying.

"Very nice Ed," she said at last, flipping her sunglasses back down over her jewelled eyes and then flicking her hair back.

Ed looked thoroughly satisfied and ran back into the cabin, letting the fish snap back out of her mouth and dangle a few torturous feet above the water on the end of its line.

Faye turned back toward the _Bell Pepper__'__s_ deck. Her lips twitched into a little smile as she glanced across at the curious little data-dog Ein. Jet looked after him more than anyone now, Ed had taken him way back when she left, right around the time Faye had thought on the same thing, she never had figured out quite why she went back. but was in a world of her own. Not mature enough to have a pet, that's what Jet had said when they came back. Of course he said the same thing to Fyae when she played with the dog. She looked at him now, they'd been playing earlier, Ein still had a small roach clipped onto his tail. Still chased it furiously, gnashing and growling.

"You torturing that dog again," a deep voice growled from the stern.

Faye let her head roll back over the edge of the sun bed and saw Jet Black, big and clumsy looking as ever, walking up the small stairwell from the lower deck. He wore those thick black square framed sunglasses of his own, the ones that made him look slightly less unattractive, and was dressed in one of those old-time Hawaiian shirts with a pair of beige shorts. He really was funny looking when she thought about it, she knew she could do so much better...maybe.

"He's just working for his dinner," Faye said with a wicked smile.

"Like you do?" Jet said, grinning back at her.

The thin-rope handled bag in Jets hand held her curiosity as he came fully into view, it was from Stacie's clothes store. She looked hard at it, thinking maybe she could see through it, see what Jet had been splashing the cash on. She feinted him with cupped hands and a big sweet open mouthed smile, asked, "Have you been buying me presents?"

He smiled even more broadly now as he set the bag down and opened it. Then pulled out…a fishing reel? Some lures? And a bag full of ground bait? What the hell was all that in a Stacie's bag for? She asked him and Jet just smiled, trying clearly not to burst into a fit of laughter. Well, it was probably for the best, Jet Black wasn't the best gift buyer in the world, he always bought her stupid crop tops and those skanky shirts that tied up under the bust, as though she'd actually want to show off her ugly midriff.

She noticed Jet's face had turned down, then realised how deeply she was frowning. Shook it off and flipped her sunglasses back up, "Real funny Jet, like we don't have enough fishing tackle cluttering the ship. When are you gonna get me a make-up desk or a vanity mirror?"

He didn't answer that, stopped at the head of the deck chair and looked down into Faye's eyes. She suddenly felt naked, the grin on Jets face seemed like he had something on his mind. She was about to shun him when he said, "I did however, place that bet for you,"

"Oh really," schoolgirl excitement permeating her voice, she launched halfway to a sit, elbows propping her up, the thin towel that had been splashed across her stomach fell off. She quickly pulled it tight around the soft skin again and laid back down to avoid anymore embarrassment. Said, "And?"

Jet reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of Woolongs folded in half and held it casually between two fingers as he continued to gaze down at her. Faye's eyes physically shifted to the beautiful dark lime shaded paper.

"You know, I should keep this," Jet said, running his other hand across the leafs of money, "You still owe me for bailing you out of jail. And I did place the bet, and it was my money, and it was me who picked the right pony,"

Faye smiled her _whatever_-_you_-_say_ smile and parted her lips, showing just a sliver of her pearly white teeth. Jet gritted his teeth, growling through them and looking like some big angry bear as he lowered the folded money slowly. She gripped it in her teeth and Jet let go. Smiling broadly with all that green paper in her mouth, she plucked it form her teeth and rifled through it, savouring the sweet taste of money. The smell of peppermint and lilacs lingered with it from Jets grubby hand; he'd been smoking again. She let him off though, like she always did because he could pick winners, not for any other reason…maybe.

His flat soled shoes clacked on the deck as he cut through the fresh salty air and stopped at the foot of the bed this time. He sat, lifting her legs and resting them across his lap. His human hand ran a finger up and down the slick oil while he stared out into the water.

"Hey, quit that Jet, you'll mess up my tanning lotion," she said feeling a pleasant shiver.

"You got a birds nest Faye,"

Her mind stumbled for a moment, like someone had just tossed a bag of marbles around the inside of her brain. Then the light bulb went on as she flushed hot under her cheeks and bolted upright. The already rickety bed creaked under the strain as she stared at her bikini line. Smooth and clean as satin.

"Huh, what the hell, that isn't funny-"

"Look Faye," Jet said nodding in the direction of her fishing rod.

She followed his gaze and saw the tangled stringy mess around her spool of fishing line, "Oh, you meant my line got tangled,"

"Ugh, no Faye," Jet said, letting her legs spill off his lap and on to the deck as he got up, walking over to the rod he said, "If I meant your line was tangled I'd have said that. Did you even read the guide book I gave you?"

"I glanced at it,"

Jet was on his haunches now, sorting out the mess Faye had made of her rod. She felt cold just below her heart, and without realising it, she was frowning again. She wouldn't apologise for it though, everyone made mistakes and he didn't need to be so grouchy about it. She scowled him from behind, looking at the hole through his cybernetic that was stopped out with some rudimentary augmentation he'd had to fix it.

"Jeez, I don't think you're ready for the net yet," he said, mumbling as his arms tried to tear at the tangled mess, then before Faye could shout him down he said, "Spike'll be here in a few days," finished fixing the spool and checked it would reel in properly.

That hot bubbly feeling rose in her stomach, the one that passed up through her body and by the time it reached her heart was pleasantly warm. Sometimes she wished it wasn't there, it was so confusing. She loved Jet, she was sure of it, she got that same feeling every time she snuggled up to his grizzly frame, he'd saved her life more than once and she had to love him…she hoped. He always seemed to get more grouchy when Spike turned up, Faye dwelled on the thought for a minute. Maybe he was just sad he could only see his best buddy once a month or so. Or maybe those ugly rock lobsters Spike brought with him unsettled him the way they made her feel. Maybe it was those same lobsters that he had his nightmares about, the ones when he woke up, all his hairs like tiny little frosty blades of grass that slowly wilted as she soothed him back to sleep in the middle of the night.

At last she managed to say something, anything, "I hope he doesn't bring one of those stupid lobsters,"

Jet chortled, "You wanna eat it if he does?"

"No!"

She was drawn to his arm again. That big stupid robotic thing that he couldn't even feel through. It was so unfair for both of them, he couldn't enjoy her full and perfect beauty like that. It was like some cruel twisted fate had told him he was only allowed half of Faye Valentine. And of course, the robotic one didn't feel nice against her skin, it didn't feel nice at all. For a moment, she felt sorry for him, but then felt more thankful that she still had all her limbs.

She played the stack of Woolongs through her fingers again, sucking up the flavouring scent and listening to the sound of the ruffling paper. Counted it. Fifteen thousand. It wasn't much, she still needed about fifteen million to pay for the reconstructive surgery, but if Jet had to let another year slip off the calendar and be celebrating his thirty eighth (though Faye thought a number that high was far from worthy of celebration) with a brand new flesh and blood arm, then that's how long it'd take. She imagined how thrilled he'd be, how shocked that she'd actually spent some money on him--shocked enough to forget about the hundreds of millions she owed him.

With the money safely slid under the towel over her belly, hidden away with that ugly little pepperoni slice patch of skin, she turned her attention back to the water. Jet was busy setting up the new rod he'd bought; a fifteen footer with some seriously heavy duty line. Looked like he was going for a sea bass again or maybe a Ganymede eel. Over on the _Earth__'__s comet_, Ed and her giant of a father had come out to do their own round of fishing. Though that seemed to have lapsed into Ed's dad grabbing his daughter by the ankles and swinging her around like a power turbine. Ed didn't mind though, she was giggling maniacally and screaming to go faster. They were an odd family, all of them, herself included. The vixen frozen for half a century, the honourable-to-a-more-than-healthy-degree ex-cop with a bonsai tree and fishing fixation, the alcoholic giant of a man who seriously needed some parenting lessons and the downright undecipherable genius child. And of course there was that seldom seen mossy haired lunkhead. Perhaps odd wasn't a strong enough word to describe Faye Valentine's pseudo-family but they were her family. Oh yes! they were her family.

**…SEE YOU SPACE FISHERMEN**

* * *

Alright so that was it, hope you enjoyed my little foray into the fantasy of Spike surviving Bebop's end. Feel free to send me all your fan mail/hate mail/random yammerings/money etc.

A/N: So I said I'd explain my theories on Faye and Jet, more of why Faye needs Jet (I got rid of Spike so she couldn't chase him around). Thing is I like Faye and if she ended up with Spike…well come on, he isn't exactly reliable and he never seemed to look for Julia all that much. I just think Jet is more the kind who would make Faye _know _she's loved. He might not be as adventurous as Spike but truth be told, by the end of Bebop I didn't think Faye was all that adventurous anymore. The truth is, she'd probably outgrow Spike eventually, and I think she works better with Jet. The reason for that is she is opposite to Jet in all the right ways (opposite to Spike in all the wrong ways) The strict attitude of Jet and lazy who care's of Faye means much chance for humour, romance and of course a very whipped Jet because he just can't stay mad at anyone.

Not to be self righteous but I have to say, I was pleased with myself when I wrote the little bit about the racetrack bet.

Thanks For Reading

TK


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